A Message To The Feds, Sincerely, We The People (Explicit Album Version) Lyrics
| Song | A Message To The Feds, Sincerely, We The People (Explicit Album Version) |
| Artist | Nas |
| Album | Street's Disciple |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Clinton, Gibbs, Hayes, Jones ... | |
| Get ready get prepared | |
| This is Prophecy, | |
| God is with us | |
| I walk the block like whatever god, my message to y'all feds | |
| Who desperate to arrest us young, benevolent hard heads | |
| Abrochrombie and | |
| Finch rockin', wrist glistenin' marksman | |
| Hitchcock of | |
| Hip-Hop since | |
| Big Pop departed | |
| The project logic is still salute the dead, glocks spit | |
| Pour some juice out for those in | |
| Manchester, | |
| View Mount | |
| Otis Ville, | |
| Newasberg, | |
| Fort Dicks, | |
| Fort Worth, | |
| OakdaleEvery fed jail where all my dawgs lurk war hurts much to gain | |
| Till the day we all say may your pain be champagne | |
| Then we all blaze away at our enemies, may they die easily | |
| Long as they perish forevers what freedom means to me | |
| Blowin' greenery, growing eager to see evil things | |
| Thrown away, zonin' gray, | |
| GT, Diesel jeans airs and chucks | |
| Solitaires, stones with the rarest cuts on some pretty tone shit | |
| Haircut looks airbrushed and they're aware of us though | |
| And we don't give a flyin' 747 fuck though stayin' on my hustle | |
| A message to those who trapped us up | |
| From Federal guys who backed them up | |
| We never will die, we black and tough | |
| Lead in your eye, we strapped to bust | |
| Half of us been locked up inside the beast | |
| Look at the time we see | |
| Brooklyn to | |
| Compton streets | |
| Queens, even the | |
| Congo needs dreams | |
| Our bullets and triggers our enemies pullin' | |
| On innocent women and children | |
| It wasn't no ghetto killers who mixed up the coke | |
| And put guns in our buildings but | |
| I'm not gon' cry | |
| And I'm not gon' just stand and watch you die | |
| I'ma pass you a .9, | |
| I'ma grab your hand come on let's ride | |
| A message to those who killed the king, who murdered the | |
| ChristThe same regime, what | |
| God has built you never can break | |
| What God has loved you never can hate, man makes rules and laws | |
| You just a ruthless dog, your kennel is waiting | |
| You devils will run back into the caves you came from | |
| Whenever that day comes, forty-acres, plantations, see every race won | |
| Sincerely yours, | |
| Street's Disciple, revelations |
| zuo ci : Clinton, Gibbs, Hayes, Jones ... | |
| Get ready get prepared | |
| This is Prophecy, | |
| God is with us | |
| I walk the block like whatever god, my message to y' all feds | |
| Who desperate to arrest us young, benevolent hard heads | |
| Abrochrombie and | |
| Finch rockin', wrist glistenin' marksman | |
| Hitchcock of | |
| HipHop since | |
| Big Pop departed | |
| The project logic is still salute the dead, glocks spit | |
| Pour some juice out for those in | |
| Manchester, | |
| View Mount | |
| Otis Ville, | |
| Newasberg, | |
| Fort Dicks, | |
| Fort Worth, | |
| OakdaleEvery fed jail where all my dawgs lurk war hurts much to gain | |
| Till the day we all say may your pain be champagne | |
| Then we all blaze away at our enemies, may they die easily | |
| Long as they perish forevers what freedom means to me | |
| Blowin' greenery, growing eager to see evil things | |
| Thrown away, zonin' gray, | |
| GT, Diesel jeans airs and chucks | |
| Solitaires, stones with the rarest cuts on some pretty tone shit | |
| Haircut looks airbrushed and they' re aware of us though | |
| And we don' t give a flyin' 747 fuck though stayin' on my hustle | |
| A message to those who trapped us up | |
| From Federal guys who backed them up | |
| We never will die, we black and tough | |
| Lead in your eye, we strapped to bust | |
| Half of us been locked up inside the beast | |
| Look at the time we see | |
| Brooklyn to | |
| Compton streets | |
| Queens, even the | |
| Congo needs dreams | |
| Our bullets and triggers our enemies pullin' | |
| On innocent women and children | |
| It wasn' t no ghetto killers who mixed up the coke | |
| And put guns in our buildings but | |
| I' m not gon' cry | |
| And I' m not gon' just stand and watch you die | |
| I' ma pass you a . 9, | |
| I' ma grab your hand come on let' s ride | |
| A message to those who killed the king, who murdered the | |
| ChristThe same regime, what | |
| God has built you never can break | |
| What God has loved you never can hate, man makes rules and laws | |
| You just a ruthless dog, your kennel is waiting | |
| You devils will run back into the caves you came from | |
| Whenever that day comes, fortyacres, plantations, see every race won | |
| Sincerely yours, | |
| Street' s Disciple, revelations |
| zuò cí : Clinton, Gibbs, Hayes, Jones ... | |
| Get ready get prepared | |
| This is Prophecy, | |
| God is with us | |
| I walk the block like whatever god, my message to y' all feds | |
| Who desperate to arrest us young, benevolent hard heads | |
| Abrochrombie and | |
| Finch rockin', wrist glistenin' marksman | |
| Hitchcock of | |
| HipHop since | |
| Big Pop departed | |
| The project logic is still salute the dead, glocks spit | |
| Pour some juice out for those in | |
| Manchester, | |
| View Mount | |
| Otis Ville, | |
| Newasberg, | |
| Fort Dicks, | |
| Fort Worth, | |
| OakdaleEvery fed jail where all my dawgs lurk war hurts much to gain | |
| Till the day we all say may your pain be champagne | |
| Then we all blaze away at our enemies, may they die easily | |
| Long as they perish forevers what freedom means to me | |
| Blowin' greenery, growing eager to see evil things | |
| Thrown away, zonin' gray, | |
| GT, Diesel jeans airs and chucks | |
| Solitaires, stones with the rarest cuts on some pretty tone shit | |
| Haircut looks airbrushed and they' re aware of us though | |
| And we don' t give a flyin' 747 fuck though stayin' on my hustle | |
| A message to those who trapped us up | |
| From Federal guys who backed them up | |
| We never will die, we black and tough | |
| Lead in your eye, we strapped to bust | |
| Half of us been locked up inside the beast | |
| Look at the time we see | |
| Brooklyn to | |
| Compton streets | |
| Queens, even the | |
| Congo needs dreams | |
| Our bullets and triggers our enemies pullin' | |
| On innocent women and children | |
| It wasn' t no ghetto killers who mixed up the coke | |
| And put guns in our buildings but | |
| I' m not gon' cry | |
| And I' m not gon' just stand and watch you die | |
| I' ma pass you a . 9, | |
| I' ma grab your hand come on let' s ride | |
| A message to those who killed the king, who murdered the | |
| ChristThe same regime, what | |
| God has built you never can break | |
| What God has loved you never can hate, man makes rules and laws | |
| You just a ruthless dog, your kennel is waiting | |
| You devils will run back into the caves you came from | |
| Whenever that day comes, fortyacres, plantations, see every race won | |
| Sincerely yours, | |
| Street' s Disciple, revelations |
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