The Message

(album: It Was Written - 1996)

Fake thug, no love, you get the slug, CB4 Gusto
Your luck low, I didn't know 'til I was drunk though
You freak niggas played out, get fucked and ate out
Prostitute turned bitch, I got the gauge out
96 ways I made out, Montana way
The Good F-E-L-L-A, verbal AK spray
Dipped attache, jump out the Range, empty out the ashtray
A glass of 'Zé make a man Cassius Clay
Red dot plots, murder schemes
32 shotguns, regulate with my dunns
17 rocks gleam from one ring
They let me let y'all niggas know one thing
There's one life, one love, so there can only be one King
The highlights of living, Vegas-style, roll dice in linen
Antera spinning on millenniums
20 G bets I'm winning 'em, threats I'm sending 'em
Lex with TV sets the minimum, ill sex adrenaline
Party with villains, a case of Demi-Sec
To chase the Henny, wet any clique with the semi TEC
Who want it? Diamonds I flaunt it
Chickenheads flock I lace 'em, fried broiled with basil taste 'em
Crack the legs way out of formation
It's horizontal how I have 'em fucking me in the Benz wagon
Can it be Vanity from Last Dragon?
Grab your gun, it's on though
Shit is grimy, real niggas buck in broad daylight
With the broke MAC that won't spray right
Don't give a fuck who they hit as long as the drama's lit
Yo, overnight thugs bug 'cause they ain't promised shit
Hungry-ass hooligans stay on that piranha shit

I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testing
I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testing
I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testing
I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testing

I peeped you fronting
I was in the Jeep sunk in the seat, tinted with heat, beats bumping
Across the street you was wilding
Talking about how you ran the Island in '89
Laying up, playing the yard with crazy shine
I cocked the baby 9, that nigga grave be mine
Clanked him—what was he thinkin'?
On my corner when it's pay-me time
Dug 'em, you owe me, cousin
Something told me "Plug him!"
So dumb, felt my leg burn, then it got numb
Spun around and shot one
Heard shots and dropped, son, caught a hot one
Somebody take this biscuit 'fore the cops come
Then they came asking me my name
What the fuck? I got stitched up, it went through
Left the hospital that same night, what
Got my gat back, time to backtrack
I had the drop so how the fuck I get clapped?
Black was in the Jeep watching
All he seen speed by was a brown Datsun
And yo, nobody in my hood got one
That clown nigga's through, blazing at his crew daily
The Bridge touched me up severely, hear me?
So when I rhyme it's sincerely yours
Be lighting Ls, sipping Coors on all floors in project halls
Contemplating war niggas I was cool with before
We used to score together uptown copping the raw
But, uh—a thug changes and love changes
And best friends become strangers (Word up)

Y'a–Y'all know my steelo
Ther–ther–ther–ther–ther–there ain't an army that could strike back
Y'a–Y'all know my steelo
Ther–ther–ther–ther–there ain't an army that could strike back
Y'a–Y'all know my steelo
Ther–ther–ther–there ain't an army that could strike back
Y'a–Y'all know my steelo
There ain't an army that could strike back

Thug niggas, yo, to them thug niggas
Getting it on in the world, you know?
To them niggas that's locked down
Doing they thing, surviving, ya know'm sayin'?
To my thorough niggas, New York and worldwide
Yo, to the Queensbridge Militia
9-6 shit, The Firm clique
Illmatic, nigga, It Was Written though
It's been a long time coming
Y'all fake niggas, trying to copy
Better come with the real though, fake-ass niggas, yo
(They throw us slugs, we throwing them back, what)
Bring the shit, man! Live, man!
(Fuck that son, word up) 9-6 shit