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The Truth

Nas

Magic


Can't bury you with your money
Can't bury you with your bitch
Born alone, die alone
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, burn the whole place down

No more foul plays, housing mentality, shoot 'em down days
Going out of town with a couple of pound plays
Always the one you call your friend but then his style changed
Hard time for non-violent crimes, that's a outrage
We need a meeting, money and fame is fleeting
You never really know the reason why two people is beefing
Bloody murder, in the '80s, he had suede Louis seats in the 'burban
Did dirty, his sentДnce start turning
Look at life, took advice from thĐ” streets of Vernon
Nothing Nice, John Boy Ice, his death undetermined
Pick an island, anywhere for your happy soul or return it
When I'm gone, I pray my family don't get the cash and burn it
To the floor, black 4's laced up
Galactica glaciers, eighty-eight karats, immaculate paystubs
Them niggas do a crime, I drop a rhyme, it's the same rush
And they been sending shots a nigga way but they ain't struck
Can't fuck with me
I been outside since a buck fifty was the only way to get your face done
Doggystyle CD, turn that "Murder Was the Case" up
Thinking when I drop my first shit, I'm leaving they face scrunched
Black from the dark side of Vernon from the dime block
They had it clicking but today, it's the new slimes out
Instagram trickin' the hood, what they crying 'bout?
Petty crimes, bitches and money, that's why they lying 'bout

Niggas ain't telling the truth enough (No, uh-uh, no)
Y'all don't look like the truth to us
Hype off that lil' dirt you did, that ain't shit to the kid, woah
Niggas ain't telling the truth enough (No, no, nigga)
Y'all don't look like the truth to us
Hype off that lil' dirt you did, that ain't shit to the kid, woah

Now you got your marching orders
This shit'll make your mouth water like food grill with wood chips
Woolriche, button-up flannel, looking wolfish
My hair wolfing, central bookings, simple lessons
One foot on the curb, one foot in the Lexus, my style is eclectic
Eat you pussies for breakfast, then I offer refreshments
Look all that fly shit y'all harping on
They take a watch from your arm and cops do nothing about it
That's what's going on, many changes, more races
When I was touring the nation with warrants on probation
I was a small kid amazed with the thought
One day I'd be banking, IV from drinking
Papi to Abu Dhabi, probably parley with Saudis
Crank the engine on the '74 Chevy Chevelle
Shawty friend is a snake, I told her her bestie ain't real
You gotta watch that, as the lobster crack, I spray the Baccarat
Your reputation, you can't clean that shit up at no laundromat
Sucker, see somebody has to say it, the boy still ain't graduated
I must say they cap the greatest (Be real)
My team is mature, the bags are secured
Surrounded by addicts addicted to having more

Niggas ain't telling the truth enough (No, uh-uh, no)
Y'all don't look like the truth to us
Hype off that lil' dirt you did, that ain't shit to the kid, woah
Niggas ain't telling the truth enough (No, no, nigga)
Y'all don't look like the truth to us
Hype off that lil' dirt you did, that ain't shit to the kid, woah

Compositores: Nasir Jones, Alexander Hollis Chauncey
ECAD: Obra #33880998

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