"Black Folks" lyrics - NAS

What, what...yeah

[Verse 1: Nas]
I ain't seen as much death, nor seen as much crime
Since the blackout in Queensbridge in '79
Everybody's a killer now; pimps, playas, and dons
Shorties on the block push drops and carry on
Niggas look through our window wherever we drove
Through the tint, to see if the Benz is matching the clothes
We the Queens kings, I used to view the cats that are old
Seeing things that made me real from my skin to my soul
Girls who turned hoes, friends who turned foes
Bad luck niggas who bring death wherever they go
Never sleep, it feels better to know
It's all real though

[Interlude]

Everything is real
Where we Headed now?
Up to more money, would be more fun
Leave with mo' bitches, carry more guns
Where we headed now? Where we going, yo?
It's getting real, son; we gon' let it flow
Where we Mo' bitches, it be more dough
It be more fun, holding more...

[Verse 2: Nas]
How the hell are we supposed to excel from the street
Where the Jake's crew face young kids who wanna eat?
Quantum Leap to this Black world, hustlers and ghettos
Self-made millionaires who tussle with the devil
Bust a lil metal lead, wrestle you, to the pebbles
On the hard ground, that's if your guard down
It's a struggle, brothers jump bail
To come chill with they niggas on the block, with them rocks for sale
On the horn with the god Shapelle, my Queens comrade
Yo, run and come in with the dime bag

[Verse 3: Shapelle]
Ayo, I need dat, I got to smoke dat
Send me some Chunky Black, so I could smoke away the pain
Try to find my brain, but the thought still remain
Yo, it's on again once the death stunts these chains
'Cause I been through it; the drug game, I thought I knew it
I got knocked, took it to trial, but I blew it
25, but only lived 20 years of my life
Took 5 from me; got me wrapped up like a mummy
Now I'm in the system a.k.a. the devil's home
Where they tell you where to eat, sleep, shit, and use the phone
Now I'm living with, drug dealers, and chain stealers
Bitch niggas who got knocked and turned squealers
Imagine, sharing a cell with a rehabilitated addict
Who love fucking with faggots, but I civilized the savage
I sat him down and made him study mathematics
Now I'm sitting in the cell thinking...
About this reefer I'ma get this weekend
On the V.I., I rather be... uh, damn, damn