[Produced by Trackmasters]

[Verse 1: Nas]
They never realized how real Nas is, so decisive
It's just the likeness of Israelites mist that made me write this
A slight twist of lime rhyme, be chasing down your prime-time
Food for thought, or rather mind wine
The Don Juan features the freak shit
My thesis on how we creep quick
Fucking your wife, that ain't no secret
It's mandatory — see, that pussy, they hand it to me
I got no game, it's just some bitches understand my story
There ain't no drama that my n***as never handled for me
My gator brand is Mauri, walking through rough land before me
Where the snakes put a smile on they face
Hoping and praying I'm stuck
Scoping, they lay in the cut, weighing my luck
Player haters play this in cell blocks and rocked stages
Winking at some female cops with cocked gauges
Really, it's papers I'm addicted to
Wasn't for rap, then I'd be sticking you
The MAC inside the Triple Goose
Face down on the floor's the routine
Don't want hear nobody blow steam
Just C.R.E.A.M. or it's a smoke screen
Imagine that, that's why I hardly kick the bragging raps
I zone, to each his own in this ghetto inhabitant
[Chorus x2: Nas & Foxy Brown]
Watch dem n***as that be close to you
And make sure they do what they supposed to do
'Cause you know they be thinking 'bout smoking you
Never personal, nowadays it's the ways

[Verse 2: Nas, Foxy Brown]
Now how can I perfect this? (Uhh, what?)
Living reckless, die for my necklace
Crime infected, driving a Lexus with a death wish
Jetting, checking my message on the speaker
Bopping to Mona Lisa, brown reefer, 10 G's, gun and my Visa
CD cranking, doing 90 on the Franklin D. Roosevelt
No seat belt, drinking and thinking
My man caught a bad one, son, n***as is frightened
Secret indictments, adds on the one seeking enlightenment
My Movado says 7 — the God hour, that's if you follow
Traditions started by the school, not far from The Apollo
My 'fuck tomorrow' motto through the eyes of Pablo
Escobar, the desperado, word to Cus D'Amato

[Chorus x2: Nas & Foxy Brown]
Gotta watch dem n***as that's close to you
And make sure they do what they supposed to do
'Cause you know they be thinking about smoking you
Never personal, nowadays it's the ways
[Verse 3: Nas, Foxy Brown]
Some n***as watch you (Uhh)
See you when you think you on the low, ain't hard to spot you
You swore to keep it real after you blow
3 ki's, new V's, went to Anguilla with your ho
Stayed around the hood, smoothest cat getting the dough
Them old-timers advise you to them problems that's ahead
Drama with the Feds, not listening, just bobbing your head
Your Roley shining, thinking to yourself "Nobody's taking mine"
At the same time, your ho is getting snatched from behind
Put in a van, "Where's the hundred grand?!"
Stripping her hand from all the ice
Wouldn't you know? You knew these n***as all your life
What made them mark you victim?
You fucked up somewhere down the line
Now they had to target your Wisdom
She took 'em to your place, straight to your safe
You doubted it could happen, sick of yapping
Jump in your ride, headed to your side
Puffing ganja, get to your crib, can't find her, just a reminder:
Shouldn't have your stash house where you crash out
Could've passed out, your coke is gone, now you ass out
Dead bitches tell no lies, you should use your eyes!

[Chorus: Nas & Foxy Brown, Foxy Brown]
Gotta watch them n***as that's close to you (Uhh)
And make sure they do what they supposed to do (What, hah)
'Cause you know they be thinking 'bout smoking you (Uh)
Never personal, nowadays it's the ways
Watch them n***as that's close to you (Uhh)
And make sure they do what they supposed to do
'Cause you know they be thinking 'bout smoking you (Uh-huh)
Never personal, nowadays it's the ways (Uhh)