Hope y'all make it through the storm
You know what, though? I love the rain, man
Love the rain
A lot of you cats is runnin' your mouths (heheheh)
You're runnin' your mouths crazy
Think y'all got to ease up, though, you know?
Ease up 'fore somethin' happen, man
We don't want that, at least you don't
Be easy, man
Tell you how it feels to be on top of the world
But y'all niggas better take it slow
Don't body ya self
Don't body ya self
Yeah, don't body ya self, nigga
Yeah, yeah
Everybody get low, niggas
Dedicated to the "Fuck Nas" coalition
Touch my dough, I'm lettin' .40 cals blow, nigga
Not cows with four legs
But cals with more lead
That add up more dead
It's on nigga, I'ma bury 'em
Niggas don't want beef, they vegetarian
Scared of pussy, you climbed out a caesarean (woo!)
I push ya grown ass back in your mother's womb
You need 9 more months
Your crew's 9 more punks
You rhyme on stuff and claim I ain't sign y'all up
If I sign y'all, I'm on dust
Yeah we from the same hood, but nigga, what?
When y'all was tryna rap, y'all was makin' me proud, man
Now you fucked up, down on your luck, runnin' your mouth, man?
Why don't you be a real man? Say you need a lil' help
And I might help your ass off the shelf
But no, you're bein' disrespectful
Thinkin' son so cool that he won't check you
Stand down, the king is home
Queens' own, NASDAQ, Dow Jones
Wow
Don't body ya self, crazy
Take it slow, man
Slow down, whoa (yeah)
Take it slow, motherfucker, don't body ya self
Lisâlisten (Take it slow, man)
Just listen, ha ha ha
Don't body ya self
Listen
Slow down, homie
Slow down
Y'all gotta take it slow
I am De Niro after Am.Ex. commercials and The Fockers
With Martin Scorsese after Gangs of New York had rocked us
Back together with the master plan
The rebirth of Langston Hughes, I'm that man
I'm in the streets like old graffiti
I'm hearin' wankstas talkin' greasy
Whether broke or rich, my friend
Nasir bring that career to an end
And I'm bored with you MCs, B
Y'all beneath me
And my raps bring horror like a board of a Ouija
Of course I'm the king, get my shine on
Then I blind y'all 'cause they call me The Lord of the Rings (It's nothin')
Pinky heavy man, big stones in the wedding band
Smell the brimstone, back from Hell again
Next verse gets worse, from God's son to Devil sent
Y'all need to take it slow
Don't body ya self
Yeah
Motherfuckers, act like ya know ('05)
Motherfuckers, better take it slow
Don't body ya self (ha ha ha)
They say Jada defeated him
Joe too street for him
What's next? I guess it's for Nas to Ether him
Y'all awaiting a MC burial
This is ethereal, FM stereo to XM radio
What does it mean, ethereal? Hm either heavenly or spiritual
Extreme, delicately light in a way that seems too perfect for this world
Man that is righteous, faithful and keeps law
Will surely live, declares the sovereign Lord
And you are none of the above
So you a sucka for death, if I'm a sucka for love
And y'all wanna know why I ain't gotta answer niggas?
'Cause I truly understand these niggas
Scared of me, so they talk about family members
Like I can't point out your grandma to niggas
Damn, you was my man like crew, dog
Don't make me change your body frame to blue fog
The Q is the borough of true Dons
Any disrespect, nigga, we choose arms
Will it be Gilmore or Crowe's?
Nigga act like ya know
Yeah
Y'all better take it slow
Motherfuckers, act like ya know
Mess around and body ya self, man
Don't body ya self
