Sting
The Message
[Produced by Trackmasters]

[Verse 1]
Fake thug, no love, you get the slug
CB4 Gusto, your luck low, I didn't know 'til I was drunk though
You freak n***as played out, get fucked and ate out
Prostitute turned bitch, I got the gauge out
96 ways I made out
Montana way, the Good F-E-L-L-A, verbal AK spray
Dipped attache, jump out the Range, empty out the ashtray
A glass of 'Zé make a man Cassius Clay
Red dot plots, murder schemes, 32 shotguns
Regulate with my thuns, 17 rocks gleam from one ring
Then let me let y'all n***as know one thing
There's one life, one love, so there can only be one King
The highlights of livin', Vegas-style, roll dice in linen
Antera spinnin' on Millenniums
20G bets I'm winnin' 'em, threats I'm sendin' 'em
Lex with TV sets—the minimum, ill sex adrenaline
Party with villains, a case of Demi-Sec to chase the Henny
Wet any clique with the semi TEC, who want it?
Diamonds I flaunt it, chickenheads flock, I lace 'em
Fried, broiled with basil, taste 'em
Crack they legs way out of formation
It's horizontal how I have 'em fuckin' me in the Benz wagon
Can it be Vanity from Last Dragon? Grab your gun, it's on though
Shit is grimy, real n***as buck in broad daylight
With the broke MAC, it won't spray right
Don't give a fuck who they hit as long as the drama's lit
Yo, overnight thugs bug ‘cause they ain't promised shit
Hungry-ass hooligans stay on that piranha shit
[Refrain]
I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin'
I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin'
I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin'
I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin'

[Verse 2]
I peeped you frontin'
I was in the Jeep, sunk in the seat, tinted, with heat, beats bumpin'
Across the street, you was wildin', talkin' about how you ran the Island in '89
Layin' up, playin' the yard with crazy shine
I cocked the baby 9, that n***a gravy mine, clanked him
What was he thinkin' on my corner when it's pay-me time?
Dug 'em, you owe me, cousin, somethin' told me "Plug him!"
So dumb, felt my leg burn, then it got numb
Spun around and shot one, heard shots and dropped, son
Caught a hot one, somebody take this biscuit 'fore the cops come
Then they came, askin' me my name, what the fuck?
I got stitched up, it went through, left the hospital that same night, what
Got my gat back, time to backtrack
I had the drop, so how the fuck I get clapped?
Black was in the Jeep watchin', all he seen speed by was a brown Datsun
And yo, nobody in my hood got one
That clown n***a's through, blazin' at his crew daily
The 'Bridge touched me up severely, hear me?
So when I rhyme, it's sincerely yours
Be lightin' L's, sippin' Coors on all floors in project halls
Contemplatin' war, n***as I was cool with before
We used to score together Uptown, coppin' the raw
But, uh—a thug changes, and love changes
And best friends become strangers (Word up)
[Refrain 2]
Y'a–Y'all know my steelo
Ther–Ther–Ther–Ther–There ain't an army that could strike back
Y'a–Y'all know my steelo
Ther–Ther–Ther–Ther–There ain't an army that could strike back
Y'a–Y'all know my steelo
Ther–Ther–Ther–There ain't an army that could strike back
Y'a–Y'all know my steelo
There ain't an army that could strike back

[Outro: Nas & (AZ)]
Thug n***as
Yo, to them thug n***as gettin' it on in the world, you know?
To them n***as that's locked down
Doin' they thing, survivin', ya know'm sayin'?
To my thorough n***as, New York and worldwide
Yo, to the Queensbridge Militia
'96 shit, The Firm clique
Illmatic, n***a, It Was Written though
It's been a long time comin'
Y'all fake n***as, tryin' to copy
Better come with the real though, fake-ass n***as, yo
(They throw us slugs, we throwin' them back, what)
Bring the shit, man! Live, man!
(Fuck that, son, word up) '96 shit