A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

N.O.R.E.

"Driver's Seat"

[Intro]
Killer B, yeah, rest in peace, I'm sayin son
Ain't no room in this game for everybody, you know?
But uh, we gon' do our thing baby, we gon' do our thing

[Verse 1: Iman T.H.U.G.]
Yo, Iman T.H.U.G. somethin' stunnin', rappers get done in
I migrate—Queens, Jamaica, Brooklyn—gets sunnin'
All feelings though, we all grow wit this ?buckle?
I recognized life is a deal, cards and a shuffle
Everything revolves around me, I couldn't see that
25 to Life and hip-hop, you got the feedback
Who need that, hundred grand stashed up in a G-stack
We fo' black, want more trip, we get that old back
And keep this world high, yearly raw supply
These f*ckin' tracks have a n*gga feelin' wide inside
Any bottle-tip high smokin' lah in the rye
It's on you, if you wanna take heed the hidden treasure
Recognize it's Iman T.H.U.G. wit Noreaga
Recognize that 2-5 shine'll last forever
Embedded in your mind like the seams in butter leathers
Butter leathers, check it—yo, yo, yo

[Chorus: Iman T.H.U.G.]
I keep it real wit' a n*gga—keep it real wit' me
I cut the hand off a n*gga tryin' steal from me
2-5 be that bomb-diggy-bomb, you see
Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat

I keep it real wit' a n*gga—keep it real wit' me
I cut the hand off a n*gga tryin' steal from me
2-5 be that bomb-diggy-bomb, you see
Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat

[Verse 2: N.O.R.E.]
I keep it real wit' a b*tch that keep it real wit' me
Cut the hand off a chicken tryin' steal from me
CNN be that bomb-diggy-bomb, you see
Now, it's Nore' now in the f*ckin' driver's seat
Yo' I shoot rapid, burn weed inside a backwood
Iraq embassy need a straitjacket
Yo let's racketeer this, while most n*ggas'll fear this
Turn my sh*t down everytime they hear it
P-H-D me, rapidly right in back of me
Tackle me, them n*ggas make loot but only half of me
My faculty, blow holes in your Moschinos and tuxedos
While all y'all n*ggas free-load, reload
Explode on, roll on, fold on, Ghengis Khan
Dusk till dawn Art of War
Still time to score, yo we kid we poly for
Yo Victoria's Secret b*tches that suck di*k raw
The freak, Rick James type, I got the long pipe
Kick doors in, snake four-fours in
Yo escape the Nor-van, swervin', TV's inside Suburban
Iraq dishieke, diamond cut pinky
Listen to Trag sh*t wit Noyd and Chinky
Network like the internet, wit Henny wet
Nine-oh be my set, so whatever be next
Nashiem, he laced this beat on some east coast sh*t

[Chorus: Iman T.H.U.G.]
I keep it real wit' a n*gga—keep it real wit' me
I cut the hand off a n*gga tryin' steal from me
CNN be that bomb-diggy-bomb, you see
Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat

[Verse 3: N.O.R.E.]
We overdose this, high class wit one E-Class
Shorty came through, she iced out and dressed in blue
Said she move from Brooklyn, reside in secion two
Know how we do out here ho, a two for square
Get high, and disappear play the projects on super-low
Plus she feelin' my style, Too Hot like Coolio
Plus her cooty though, bangin' just like the studio
From Iraq to Inglewood, it all good
From hood to hood, regulate like a thug should
Yo we in too deep, losin' sleep and can't call it
The game is still fresh until the jake try to spoil it
Even people I was loyal wit, give my life to
Be the first who turn around and try to spike you
Now they don't like you, sendin' ten dogs to bite you

[Chorus: Iman T.H.U.G. + Busta Rhymes]
I keep it real wit' a n*gga—keep it real wit' me (Keep it real, n*gga)
I cut the hand off a n*gga tryin' steal from me (Cut ya hand off!)
2-5 be that bomb-diggy-bomb, you see (What?)
Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat (What?)
(Get some real with n*ggas, keep it real with us)
I keep it real wit' a n*gga—keep it real wit' me (f*ck)
I cut the hand off a n*gga tryin' steal from me (Cut ya hand off)
2-5 be that bomb-diggy-bomb, you see (What?)
Black juice in the Yukon driver's seat (What?)

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


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