Nas - Made You Look [Remix] lyrics

[Jadakiss]
I need it from the top, AHHH!
This is history baby
Commissioner Steve Stoute, Lenny -gha!
God´s Son, whattup?
D-Block, whattup?
Bravehearts, whattup? Yea
Yea, yo

[Jadakiss]
Yo aint nothin but trouble God
When I kick in the door with D-Block, Bravehearts & the Double R
Don´t make me let the machine off
This is methadone music that you can lean off
"Made You Look," the remix with me up on it
I copped your shit, now I break weed up on it
And everything´s real I see
Like my niggaz that been home but they only got a jail ID
I helped the game, it aint help me
I am top five dead or alive & that is just off one LP
And, I still buzz, they feel cuz
Cause they know the flow´s Ill just like Will was
I am just tryin to make su2e that my sons wealthy
Out of shape but I make sure that my guns healthy
I am a ape, you can not stand ´Kiss
Comin through the hood in a Aston Vanquish the color of dandruff
They said we jumped him, I just let the gun snuff him
Copped P then turbo soon as they uncuff him
This goes out to all of your mans
Why put you in the verse when I can put in a coroner van
D-Block

[Nas]
They shootin´! Ah made you look
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book
Getting´ big money, playboy your time´s up
Where them gangsters, where them dimes at?

[Nas]
They shootin´! Ah made you look
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book
Getting´ big money, playboy your time´s up
Where them gangsters at, where them dimes at?

[Ludacris]
Yuh, woo! It is time to go, Luda let´s go!
I am from the school of hard knocks, sneak peeks & low blows
Where X´s mark spots & snithes mark O´s
Where love´s gon´ getcha & hate is gon´ snitch ya
And fingers squeeze triggers like boa constrictors
It is the, Mr. Luda, Jada & Nas
And our bullets give you a deep tissue massage
So hear a song & dance while I make these ends
You never stood half a chance like Siamese Twins
Ahhh – They shootin´!, look in the barrel
Then he made the front page of the Miami Herald
or Chi. Tribune, nozzles with silent doom
We in that A-Town Journal-list, filed with goons
You should print my information, quote my rhyme
And keep me in between these New York & L.A. Times
I was the victim of society, it is ´Cris the menace
With mo´ shit out on the streets than evicted tenants
WOOOOOOOOW!

[Nas]
They shootin´! Ah made you look
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book
Getting´ big money, playboy your time´s up
Where them gangsters, where them dimes at?

[Nas]
They shootin´! Ah made you look
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book
Getting´ big money, playboy your time´s up
Where them gangsters at, where them dimes at?

(Bravehearts!, Bravehearts!, Bravehearts!, Bravehearts!)

Jungle, Wiz, Nashawn!
We got em scared look
We got em scared they runnin´!

[Nas]
Yo, I grasp the ratchet, the blinker, the biscuit, the burner
The heat, the toaster, the twister you meetin your owner
The banger, the hammer, the flamers I aim at the cannons
and can ya, manhandling ya, you will be famous like cancer do
And cut, that is the end of your movie
Pretending you actin like you & your mens´ll come shoot me
My tennis shoes Gucci, old school pea soup green
Jean Lee suit on Beaver, clicko champagne
Friday the 13th my CD drop, I rhyme to more Base than EZ Rock
I am Jason, call up P.D. watch
them Bravehearts, Jungle & Wiz & Nashawn
Ill Will rasta Lake, never revealing his face on
TV or pictures or even them niggaz
Sorry that I made you wait long, glad them fakes gone

We shootin´! Squeezin´ them triggers with Luda beside me
Me & ´Kiss get Luniz of weed, set to Styles P.
Tell him hold his head, God´s Son got him we made y´all look
From San Quentin to Riker´s Island to..

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