Music Video

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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Nas
Nas
Vocals
T La Rock
T La Rock
Sampler
The J. Geils Band
The J. Geils Band
Sampler
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Nas
Nas
Songwriter
Rick Rubin
Rick Rubin
Songwriter
Lillian Armstrong
Lillian Armstrong
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Large Professor for Paul Sea Productions, Inc.
Large Professor for Paul Sea Productions, Inc.
Producer
Destiny Jones
Destiny Jones
Executive Producer
Jake Ninan
Jake Ninan
Assistant Engineer
Paul Gregory
Paul Gregory
Assistant Engineer
Kevin Crause
Kevin Crause
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Listen up, gangstas and honeys with your hair done
Pull up a chair, hon', and put it in the air, son
Dog, whatever they call you, God, just listen
I'll spit a story backwards, it starts at the endin'
The bullet goes back in the gun
The bullet holes close in this chest of a ****, now he back to square one
Screamin', "shoot don't please", I put my fifth back on my hip
It's like a VCR rewindin' a hit
He put his hands back on his bitch, my caravan doors open up
I jumped back in the van, they closin' shut
Goin' reverse, slowly prepared
My **** Jungle utters out somethin' crazy like, "Go he there"
Sittin' back in his chair, we hittin' the roach
The smoke goes back in the blunt, the blunt gets bigger in growth
Jungle unrolls it, put his weed back in the jar
The blunt turns back into a cigar
We listen to Stevie, it sounded like heavy metal fans
Spinnin' records backwards of AC/DC
I give my **** dap, jump out the van, back first
Back upstairs, took off the black shirt
I'm in the crib with the phone to my ear
Listen up so y'all can figure out the poem real clear
The voice on the phone was like, "Outside right we"
So with my mouth wide, holdin' my heat
Bullets I had plenty to squeeze, plenty for you
'Cause Jungle said, "Block your on enemy's the"
Hung up the phone, then the phone rang
I'm laid in the bed, thinkin' about this pretty young thing
Who left, she came back, her clothes just fell to the rug
She fell to my bed and gave me a hug
I told her, "No hell," she talkin' 'bout, "Me kiss"
Bobbed her head then spit a nut back in my dick
Started suckin' with no hands, a whole lot of spit
Then got up and put her bra back on her tits
Got fully dressed and told me, "Stressed really I'm"
Picked up her Gucci bag and left a **** behind
Walkin' through the door, she rang the bell twice
I vomited vodka back in my glass with juice and ice
The clock went back from three to two to one
And that's about the time the story begun
That's when I first heard the voicemail on the cell
It said, "Son, we found that **** we gotta kill"
Written by: Large Professor, Lillian Armstrong, Nas, Rick Rubin
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