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Lirik Lagu Made You Look (Remix) - Nas F/ Jadakiss, Ludacris

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[Intro: Jadakiss]I need it from the top, AHHH!This is history babyCommissioner Steve Stoute, Lenny - ha!God's Son, whattup?D-Block, whattup?Bravehearts, whattup?YeahYeah, yo
[Verse One: Jadakiss]Yo ain't nothin but trouble GodWhen I kick in the door with D-Block, Bravehearts and the Double RDon't make me let the machine offThis is methadone music that you can lean off"Made You Look," the remix with me up on itI copped your shit, now I break weed up on itAnd everything is real I seeLike my niggaz that been home but they only got a jail IDI helped the game, it ain't help meI'm top five dead or alive and that's just off one LPAnd, I still buzz, they feel cuzCause they know the flow's Ill just like Will wasI'm just tryin to make sure that my sons wealthyOut of shape but I make sure that my guns healthyI'm a ape, you can't stand 'KissComin through the hood in a Aston Vanguish the color of dandruffThey said we jumped him, I just let the gun snuff himCopped P then turboed soon as they uncuff himThis goes out to all of your mansWhy put you in the verse when I can put in a coroner vanD-Block
[Chorus 2X: Nas]THEY SHOOTIN!Ah made you lookYou a slave to a page in my rhyme bookGettin big money, playboy your time's upWhere them gangsters, where them dimes at?
[Verse Two: Ludacris]Yuh, woo!It's time to go, Luda let's go!
I'm from the school of hard knocks, sneak peeks and low blowsWhere X's mark spots and kitchens mark O'sWhere love is gon' getcha and hate is gon' snitch yaAnd fingers squeeze triggers like boa constrictorsIt's the, Mr. Luda, Jada and NasAnd our bullets give you a deep tissue massageSo hear a song and dance while I make these endsYou never stood half a chance like Siamese TwinsAHHH - THEY SHOOTIN, look in the barrelThen he made the front page of the Miami Heraldor Chi. Tribune, nozzles with silent doomWe in that A-Town Journal-list, filed with goonsYou should print my information, quote my rhymeAnd keep me in between these New York and L.A. TimesI was the victim of society, it's 'Cris the menaceWith mo' shit out on the streets than evicted tenantsWOOOOOOOO!
[Chorus]
[Interlude: Nas]Uhh.. uhh..(BRAVE-HEARTS.. BRAVE-HEARTS.. BRAVE-HEARTS.. BRAVE-HEARTS..)Jungle, Wiz, Nashawn!We got 'em scared lookWe got 'em scared they runnin
[Verse Three: Nas]Yo, I grasp the ratchet, the blinker, the biscuit, the burnerThe heat, the toaster, the twister you meetin your ownerThe banger, the hammer, the flamers I aim at the cannonsand can ya, manhandlin ya, you'll be famous like cancer doAnd cut, that's the end of your moviePretendin you actin like you and your mens'll come shoot meMy tennis shoes Gucci, old school pea soup greenJean Lee suit on Beaver, clicko champagneFriday the 13th my CD drop, I rhyme to more Base than EZ RockI'm Jason, call up P.D. watchthem Bravehearts, Jungle and Wiz and NashawnIll Will rasta Lake, never revealin his face onTV or pictures or even them niggazSorry that I made you wait long, glad them fakes gone{*beat scratches out*}WE SHOOTIN!Squeezin them triggers with Luda beside meMe and 'Kiss get Luniz of weed, set to Styles P.Tell him hold his head, God's Son got him we made y'all lookFrom San Quentin to Riker's Island to.. {*fades out*}