Inhale deep like the words of my breath,
I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death.
Tag Archives: illmatic
…Shorty’s laugh was cold-blooded as he spoke so foul,
Only twelve tryin to tell me that he liked my style.
Then I rose, wiping the blunt’s ash from my clothes,
Then froze, only to blow the herb smoke through my nose.
We were beginners in the hood as 5 Percenters,
But somethin’ must’ve got in us, cause all of us turned to sinners.
Keepin’ this effervescent street ghetto essence inside us
Cause it provides us with the proper insight to guide us
Dwellin’ in the Rotten Apple, you get tackled.
Or caught by the devil’s lasso…shit is a hassle.
I’m a addict for sneakers, twenties of buddah and bitches with beepers.
Visualizin’ the realism of life and actuality,
Fuck who’s the baddest, a person’s status depends on salary.
On the reals, all these crab niggaz know the deal,
When we start the revolution, all they’ll probably do is squeal.
‘Cause in my physical I can express through song,
Delete stress like Motrin, then extend strong.
I drink Moet with Medusa, give her shotguns in hell
From the spliff that I lift and inhale…it ain’t hard to tell.
Deep like The Shining, sparkle like a diamond,
Sneak a Uzi on the Island in my army jacket lining.
Hit the Earth like a comet…invasion,
Nas is like the Afrocentric Asian: half-man, half-amazing.
It ain’t hard to tell, I excel then prevail,
The mic is contacted, I attract clientele.
My mic check is life or death, breathing a sniper’s breath,
I exhale the yellow smoke of buddha through righteous steps.
Life’s a bitch and then you die.
That’s why we get high,
Cause you never know when you’re gonna go.
My duration’s infinite, money-wise or physiology.
I switched my motto:
Instead of sayin’ ‘Fuck tomorrow,’
That buck that bought a bottle
Coulda struck the Lotto.
I never sleep, ‘cause sleep is the cousin of death.