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Viewing Lyrics for Street Dreams:
| | | Artist: | Nas |
| | Album: | It Was Written | | Track: | Street Dreams | | | | Date Added: | 18/10/2007 | | Views: | 5 | | | | Lyrics: | Chorus:
Street dreams are made of these niggas pushin' bimas and 300 e's a drug
dealer destiny is reaching the keys
Everyody's looking for something
Street dreams
are made of these shorties on their knees for niggas with
big g's
Who am I
to disagree
Everybody' looking for something
My man put me up for the
share on fourth of a square
headed for delaware with one change of gear
nothing on my mind but the dime sack we blazed
with thw glaze in my ete, that
we find when we crave
dollars and cents, a fugutive with two attempts
Jakes had no
trace of the face now they drew a print
though I'm innocent till proven guilty
I'm
gonna try to filthy, purchase a club
And start up a realty for real g, I'm a
fullfill my dream
If I conceal my scheme then precisely I'll build my cream
the
first tip without the clique, send the bitch
With the quarter brick, this is it fresh face,
n.y. plate
got a crooked eye for them jakes
I want it all, armorall benz with
endless papes
for God's sakes what nigga got to do to make a half million
without
the FBI catchin' feeling
Chorus
From fat cat to pappy
niggas
see the cat, 25 to flat push a thousand feet back
holding gats wasn't making me fat snitches
on my back
living with my moms, getting it on flushing crack down toilet
two sips
from being alcoholic nine hundred ninety nine thou
for being rich but now I'm all for it
my man saw it like Dionne warmick a wiser team, for a wiser dream
We could all score
with the cartel argentina coke with the nine
up in a hotel smoking on sesamina trina got the
fish scale between her
the way the bitch shook her ass
yo the dogs never seen her
she got my back living sweeter, fresh
caesar
guess, David robinson, wally
moccasins
bitches blow me while hopping in the drop top bm
word is born son, I had
the bitch down on my shit like this
Chorus
blowing up projects
struck, looking for luck dreaming
scoping, the large niggas beaming check what I'm seeing
cars, ghetto stars pushing I'll europeans.
G-ing, heard about the old timers o-d-ing
young early 80's
throwing rocks at the crazy ladies
workshipping every word,
these low rocking nigga gave me
the street raised me up, giving a fuck
I thought
Jordans and a gold chain was living it up
I knew the dopes, the pushers the addicts
everybody
cut out of class, just to smoke blunts and drink notty.
Ain't that funny
getting put on to crack money
with all the gun play, painting the kettle black hungry
a case of beers in the staircase I wasted years
some niggas went to theirs, flipping
coke as their career.
But I'm a rebel stressing to pull out of the heat no doubt,
when jeeps jetted out
Spinning, never holding out
Chorus | | | |
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