nas’ memory lane

i rap for listeners, bluntheads, fly ladies & prisoners
Hennessey holders & old-school niggaz then i be dissin‘ the
unofficial that roll whoolie thai i dropped out of Cooley High
gassed up by a cokehead cutie pie
jungle survivor, fuck who’s the liver
my man put the battery in my back a difference from Energizer
sentence begins indented with formality
my duration’s infinate moneywise or physiology
poetry thats a part of me retartedly bop
i drop that ancient manifested hip hop straight off the block
i reminisce on park jams my man was shot for his sheep coat
childhood lesson made me see him drop in my weed smoke
its real grew up in trife life did times or white lines
the hype vice, murderous nighttimes invite crimes
chill on the block with Cognac, hold strap
with my peops that’s into drug money, market into rap
no sign of the beast in the blue Chrysler, I guess that means peace
for niggas no sheisty vice to just snipe ya
start off the dice roll a match for craps to cee-lo
with sidebets, i roll a deuce, nothing below (peace God!)
peace God — now the shit is explained
I’m taking niggas on a trip straight through memory lane