Listen to Made You Look by Nas

Made You Look

Nas

Pop

439,168 Shazams

Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Nas
Nas
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Nas
Nas
Songwriter
Salaam Gibbs
Salaam Gibbs
Songwriter
Jeremiah Lordan
Jeremiah Lordan
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Salaam Remi
Salaam Remi
Producer
Mike Sroka
Mike Sroka
Assistant Engineer
Kevin Crouse
Kevin Crouse
Mixing Engineer
Ken Theis
Ken Theis
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Bravehearts, Bravehearts, Bravehearts Bravehearts, Bravehearts, Bravehearts Uh, now let's get it all in perspective For all y'all enjoyment, a song y'all can step with Y'all appointed me to bring rap justice But I ain't Five-O, y'all know it's Nas, yo Grey Goose and a whole lotta hydro Only describe us as soldier survivors Stay laced in the best, well dressed with finesse In a white tee lookin' for wifey Thug girl who fly and talks so nicely Put her in the coupe so she can feel the nice breeze We can drive through the city no doubt But don't say my car's topless, say the titties is out Newness here's the Anthem Put your hand up that you shoot with, count your loot with Push the pool stick in your new crib, same hand that you hoop with Swing around like you stupid King of the town? Yeah, I been that You know I click-clack, where you and your mens at? Do the Smurf, do the Wop, Baseball Bat Rooftop like we bringing '88 back They shootin', aw, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Gettin' big money, playboy your time's up Where them gangstas? Where them dimes at? They shootin', aw, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Gettin' big money, playboy your time's up Where them gangstas? Where them dimes at? This ain't rappin', this is Street-Hop Now get up off your ass like your seat's hot My live niggas lit up the reefer Trunk of the car, we got the street sweeper Don't start none, won't be none No reason for your mans to panic You don't want to see no ambulances Knock a pimp's drink down in his pimp cup That's the way you get Timberland'd up Let the music defuse all the tension Baller convention, free admission Hustlers, dealers and killers can move swift Girls get close, you can feel where the tool's kept All my just comin' homies, parolees Get money, leave the beef alone slowly Get out my face, you people so phony Pull out my waist, the Eagle fo-forty They shootin', aw, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Gettin' big money, playboy your time's up Where them gangstas? Where them dimes at? They shootin', aw, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Gettin' big money, playboy your time's up Where them gangstas? Where them dimes at? Bravehearts, Bravehearts, Bravehearts Bravehearts I see niggas runnin', yo, my mood is real rude I lay you out, show you what steel do Mobsters don't box, my pump shot obliges Every invitation to fight you punk-asses Like Pun said, "You ain't even en mi clasa" Maybach Benz, back seat, T.V. plasma Ladies lookin' for athletes or rappers Whatever you choose, whatever you do Make sure he a thug and intelligent too Like a real thoroughbred is, show me love Lemme feel how the head is Females whose the sexiest is always the nastiest And I like a little sassiness, a lotta class Mami reach in your bag, pass the fifth I'm a leader, at last this a don you with My 9s will spit, niggas loose consciousness
Writer(s): Nasir Jones, Salaam Remi Gibbs, Jeremiah Patrick Lordan Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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