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Nas, J.Period - No Idea's Original

No Idea's Original
Nas, J.Period
02:36
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Текст песни

[Chorus:]
No idea's original, there's nothing new under the sun,
It's never what you do, but how it's done.
What you base your happiness around? Material, women, and large paper,
That means you inferior, not major.

If n**gas could look inside my mind, you'll find
Where bodies are buried, first look past the hotties who dimes,
Go to the center, enter with caution, past the brain cell graveyard
Where weed's responsible for memory loss.
Let's witness the horrific, the stench'll make you nauseous,
See what I seen every day I live with this torture,
Lightin' spliffs up to stay high like 24 hours,
Sleep with my heat, wash with my gun in the shower.
My tongue is power, it thrills women, kills demons,
Long as I'm still breathin' I'm still winnin', I'll teach ‘em,
The hood converted from trey bags to 20's a girl,
Everybody had money, every summer was real ill.
Four-finger rings, dope dealers, ‘caine,
“No Half Steppin'” with flat tops when Rakim reigned,
Radios on card tables, Benetton, the Gods' building,
Ask for today's mathematics, we Allah's children.
And this was goin' on in every New York ghetto,
Kids listened, Five-Percenters said it's pork in Jell-o,
We coincide, we in the same life, maybe a time difference,
On a different coast, but we share the same sunlight,
You're part of the world, might be like colors and gangs,
While on my side, brothers'll murder for different things,
But it all revolve around drugs, fame and shorties,
Stuck for your bling, stripped for your chain, the same story
From Czechoslovakia to Texas metropolis.
Them treacherous rastas in the Mexican mafias
Be scrappin' with tats on they back, violent wars,
Nothing less than a lethal injection if ever caught,
Courtrooms, eagles and flags, American style,
While in our world, the ghetto stays incredibly foul.
Watchin' for paint chips, don't want no lead in yo' child,
But them gangstas put lead in yo' child, the bezzy be out.
The chain be like a hundred K,
Shinin' since Roxanne Shanté made “Runaway”, that's been a minute.
Genesis is deep, my features are that of a God,
It's not a façade, it's a fact, these rappers wanna be Nas,
My exodus doesn't exist, I'll never leave the streets, it's all in my mind,
Even with sleep I'm duckin' nines in my dreams,
Sirens, wide awake, why'd I think it would change?
Can't hide when you famous or even try to do the same things,
Like somebody's always watchin' my life.
Before I walk out the door, I size up every option,
Eyes cut every direction, it's like God or guns,
Which is better protection? Can't decide, that's a hard one.
I mean they wanna see me in prison, the chains bamboozled,
Headline readin' “Rapper Slain From a Man Shooting”.

[Chorus: 2x]
No idea's original, there's nothing new under the sun,
It's never what you do, but how it's done.
What you base your happiness around? Material, women, and large paper,
That means you inferior, not major.

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