Yo Nas wat up
[Nasty Nas:] Yo wat kid
Wats goin on yo?
[Nasty Nas:] I'm just trying to tell these brothers where I'm comin from, you know wat I'm sayin?
Ight kick it
I'm the nigga
Walking with his finger on the trigga
Make enough figgas until my pockets get bigger
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testing
Gimme a Smith & Wessin and I'll have niggas undressing
I'm rolling with a mob, and run from the cops
Drive stolen cars, and shooting many gloccs
A marijuana addict, if niggas want static, they had it
Cause I flip just like a acrobatic
I'm always on the corners, rollin obscessed, when I dress it's never nothing less than Guess
So I walk with a bop and my hat turned back
Love commiting sins and my friends sell crack
I got it goin on, my knuckle game is strong, sip Don Perry-On, and then carry on
Army is certified, keep a Rent-A-Ride
Stripping mad hoes, and kick em to the side
See I'm the type of brother who keeps a 4-pounder
Start alot of shit... and shoot at outer-towners
At every block party, I try to catch a body, all for props, tell your pops call the cops
See now I'm on the run, but still having fun
Living by the mac... Maguera's all black
I keep killing, because I'm ready and I'm willing and I'm a Villian!
I got beef with the president
And still loving it, trying to make plans to overthrow the government
It won't work cause niggas, don't believe enough
They rather stand on the corners, and recieve a cuff...
Around they wrist, you don't like the sound of this rebel, but my country doesnt want me
They rather hunt me, but you'll never catch us all
While your fucking with the dealers, when we sticking up the malls
Full of anger, all about danger, pulling out my banger, stabbing up a stranger
I hear walkie-talkies in my sleep, I use a whole lot of slang when I speak
Walking with a vest, the projects is where I rest, and the streets keep me stressed
Staring in your face, wait for you to make a sound, that's when I take you down
Shoot you up and suit you up
All in black, and put you in a box, a hard rock, with a 25 in my socks
Aiming at your temple... so take your diamonds off hands, I'm buckwild like Billy Van Zandt
Prince of pistol-laires, words are crystal clear, and this shoots ya fair
The maniac keeps killing... I'm known as an outlaw cause I'm a Villian!
I keep bullet tricks, out the barrells of a magnum
Put em to sleep, and leave the doctor to tag em
An outlaw, although I never wear a hoister, and every county you see my face is on a poster
Here so many gunshots, my eardrums should pop
Eyesite should stop, from seeing mad niggas drop
To the concrete, I got police putting chalk on the street, and this is done once a week
I'm bout to kill, like Navy Seal, I'm crazy I'll, and what I can't do my 380 will
I never played with a AK, because I'm fine with a nine and out court, I'll do lesser time
Sometimes you gotta plan shit, and understand it
See I'm a bandit whose hammer ich
Without a gun in it, Nas is running it, I stay blunted, I'm the "Projects' Most Wanted"
My voice is like magic... my cassette is the clip and your radio is an automatic
So when I'm in your town duck down
Or take fire,.. Whatever you desire
But I'm on point,.. you might miss,.. never fight this,.. should reciteless, when I strike this
So roll a dice, I'm stopping the blimp, it's I'll how I got the pen dropping the ink
No one could stop this apocalypse
On your record player, or method layer, so run and tell your mayor
Nas the parlayor, you better say your prayer, I'm the "New York City Slayor"
I play how posed, to then lay low, parlay slow, and wear horns not a halo
And keep killing... cause I'm a Villian!
[Chorus x5: fades out]