Made You Look (remix) Lyrics - Nas

[Jadakiss] 

I need it from the top, AHHH! 

This is history baby 

Commissioner Steve Stoute, Lenny -gha! 

God's Son, whattup? 

D-Block, whattup? 

Bravehearts, whattup? Yeah 

Yeah, yo 

[Jadakiss] 

Yo ain't nothin but trouble God 

When I kick in the door with D-Block, Bravehearts and the Double R 

Don't make me let the machine off 

This is methadone music that you can lean off 

"Made You Look," the remix with me up on it 

I copped your shit, now I break weed up on it 

And everything is real I see 

Like my niggaz that been home but they only got a jail ID 

I helped the game, it ain't help me 

I'm top five dead or alive and that's just off one LP 

And, I still buzz, they feel cuz 

Cause they know the flow's Ill just like Will was 

I'm just tryin to make su2e that my sons wealthy 

Out of shape but I make sure that my guns healthy 

I'm a ape, you can't stand 'Kiss 

Comin through the hood in a Aston Vanquish the color of dandruff 

They said we jumped him, I just let the gun snuff him 

Copped P then turbo soon as they uncuff him 

This goes out to all of your mans 

Why put you in the verse when I can put in a coroner van 

D-Block 

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[Nas] 

They shootin'! Ah made you look 

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book 

Getting' big money, playboy your time's up 

Where them gangsters, where them dimes at? 

[Nas] 

They shootin'! Ah made you look 

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book 

Getting' big money, playboy your time's up 

Where them gangsters at, where them dimes at? 

Photos 

[Ludacris] 

Yuh, woo! It's time to go, Luda let's go! 

I'm from the school of hard knocks, sneak peeks and low blows 

Where X's mark spots and snithes mark O's 

Where love is gon' getcha and hate is gon' snitch ya 

And fingers squeeze triggers like boa constrictors 

It's the, Mr. Luda, Jada and Nas 

And our bullets give you a deep tissue massage 

So hear a song and dance while I make these ends 

You never stood half a chance like Siamese Twins 

Ahhh ' They shootin'!, look in the barrel 

Then he made the front page of the Miami Herald 

or Chi. Tribune, nozzles with silent doom 

We in that A-Town Journal-list, filed with goons 

You should print my information, quote my rhyme 

And keep me in between these New York and L.A. Times 

I was the victim of society, it's 'Cris the menace 

With mo' shit out on the streets than evicted tenants 

WOOOOOOOOW! 

[Nas] 

They shootin'! Ah made you look 

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book 

Getting' big money, playboy your time's up 

Where them gangsters, where them dimes at? 

[Nas] 

They shootin'! Ah made you look 

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book 

Getting' big money, playboy your time's up 

Where them gangsters at, where them dimes at? 

(Bravehearts!, Bravehearts!, Bravehearts!, Bravehearts!) 

Jungle, Wiz, Nashawn! 

We got 'em scared look 

We got 'em scared they runnin'! 

[Nas] 

Yo, I grasp the ratchet, the blinker, the biscuit, the burner 

The heat, the toaster, the twister you meetin your owner 

The banger, the hammer, the flamers I aim at the cannons 

and can ya, manhandling ya, you'll be famous like cancer do 

And cut, that's the end of your movie 

Pretending you actin like you and your mens'll come shoot me 

My tennis shoes Gucci, old school pea soup green 

Jean Lee suit on Beaver, clicko champagne 

Friday the 13th my CD drop, I rhyme to more Base than EZ Rock 

I'm Jason, call up P.D. watch 

them Bravehearts, Jungle and Wiz and Nashawn 

Ill Will rasta Lake, never revealing his face on 

TV or pictures or even them niggaz 

Sorry that I made you wait long, glad them fakes gone 

We shootin'! Squeezin' them triggers with Luda beside me 

Me and 'Kiss get Luniz of weed, set to Styles P. 

Tell him hold his head, God's Son got him we made y'all look 

From San Quentin to Riker's Island to.