Memory Lane Lyrics - Nas

Fuck that shit, word word 

Fuck that other shit, you know what I'm sayin'? 

We gon' do a little somethin' like this, ya know what I'm sayin'? 

(Is they up on this?) 

Keep it on and on and on and on and 

Know what I'm sayin'? Big Nas, Grand Wizard, God what it is? 

(What it is like?) 

Hah, know what I'm sayin'? 

Yo go 'head, do that shit nigga 

I rap for listeners, blunt heads, fly ladies and prisoners 

Hennessey holders and old school niggaz 

Then I be dissin' a unofficial that smoke woolie Thai 

I dropped out of Kooley 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 

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Sentence begins indented with formality 

My duration's infinite, money wise or physiology 

Poetry, that's a part of me, retardedly bop 

I drop the ancient manifested hip-hop, straight off the block 

I reminisce on park jams, my man was shot for his sheep coat 

Childhood lesson make me see him drop in my weed smoke 

It's real, grew up in trife life, did times or white lines 

The hype vice, murderous nighttimes and knife fights invite crimes 

Chill on the block with Cog-nac, hold strap 

With my peeps that's into drug money, market into rap 

No sign of the beast in the blue Chrysler, I guess that means peace 

For niggaz no sheisty vice to just snipe ya 

Start off the dice-rollin' mats for craps to cee-lo 

With sidebets, I roll a deuce, nothin' below 

(Peace God) 

Peace God, now the shit is explained 

I'm takin' niggaz on a trip straight through memory lane 

It's like that y'all, it's like that y'all, it's like that y'all 

Photos 

Now let me take a trip down memory lane 

Comin' outta Queens 

Now let me take a trip down memory lane 

Comin' outta Queens 

Now let me take a trip down memory lane 

Comin' outta Queens 

Now let me take a trip down memory lane 

Comin' outta Queens 

One for the money, two for pussy and foreign cars 

Three for Alize niggaz deceased or behind bars 

I rap divine Gods check the prognosis, is it real or showbiz? 

My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses 

Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real 

A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the Ganja 

Here's my basis, my razor embraces, many faces 

Your telephone blowin', black stitches or fat shoelaces 

Peoples are petrol, dramatic automatic fo'-fo' I let blow 

And back down po-po when I'm vexed so 

My pen taps the paper then my brain's blank 

I see dark streets, hustlin' brothers who keep the same rank 

Pumpin' for somethin', some uprise, plus some fail 

Judges hangin' niggaz, uncorrect bails, for direct sales 

My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross with nails 

I reinforce the frail, with lyrics that's real 

Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats 

I decipher prophecies through a mic and say peace 

I hung around the older crews while they sling smack to dingbats 

They spoke of Fat Cat, that nigga's name made bell rings, black 

Some fiends scream about Supreme Team, a Jamaica Queens thing 

Uptown was Alpo, son, heard he was kingpin, yo 

Fuck rap is real, watch the herbs stand still 

Never talkin' to snakes 'cause the words of man kill 

True in the game, as long as blood is blue in my veins 

I pour my Heineken brew to my deceased crew on memory lane 

Now let me take a trip down memory lane 

Comin' outta Queens 

Now let me take a trip down memory lane 

Comin' outta Queens 

Now let me take a trip down memory lane 

Comin' outta Queens 

Now let me take a trip down memory lane 

Comin' outta Queens 

Comin' outta, comin' outta, comin' outta Queens 

The most dangerous MC is 

Comin' outta, comin' outta, comin' outta Queens 

The most dangerous MC is 

Comin' outta, comin' outta, comin' outta Queens 

The most dangerous MC is 

Comin' outta, comin' outta, comin' outta Queens 

The most dangerous MC is 

Me numba one and you know where me from