Body in a Box - Nas

So many niggas get fucked up in the game

See, that’s where they get caught out there in that word «Game»

'Cause it’s not no fuckin' game

When you hear shells coming at ya

Hot ones from a shotgun, I bet nigga runs faster

Loose a shoe to get away from a blaster

Think about that casket—you don’t wanna be in that shit

Quick to take consignment;

you taking everybody’s package

Money over bitches was the law you practiced

So you act as if money was no object

Spendin' fazools, trips for your whole projects

Epcot Center, linens for ya bitches, Rolies for your dogs

Now we in the mall, slayed by his bitches

Every day I’m reminiscing, how he was living, having fun

'Cause any day coulda led to prison

Not for a short bid, 'cause if the feds ever caught kid

It’d be like 25 years conspiracy

Another 25 for RICO, snatching up him and his people

He had his jeep bulletproof, silencers on the Desert Eagle

Flipping bricks in Gary, Indiana

He had it locked down from the streets to the slammer

Only trusted two things: his trigger and his hammer

Used to be a bum 'til he had a six-month run

Had a lawsuit, 30 G’s, the case was won

Met with Mexican Hoyé, cop boya

Bought a barbershop, named it after seeing Sade

That’s where they found his body, in a barber chair face down

Bullets in his chest, sliced apart from the waist down

Planned to sell his shop, stick Hoyé for everything he got

Take jewels and his pies

Fill his shoes with cement and drop his body in the tides

But Hoyé was wise

Even when he ain’t around he got ears and eyes

Gotta stay a step ahead of this game to stay alive

Always wanted fame, always wanted cash

To live fast, get the girls with the biggest ass

Fuck a 9 to 5, gotta drive a 5

Now that I got it, the hardest thing to do is stay alive

Always wanted fame, always wanted cash

To live fast, get the girls with the biggest ass

Fuck a 9 to 5, gotta drive a 5

Now that I got it, the hardest thing to do is stay alive

Cokehead Sandra, she grew in Gowanus

Her man was large and Sandra was his baby mama

Stayed in drama, fighting with hood rats that he was fucking

No job all day, she did nothing

They son was 7-years-old, she really was a wifey

First should she would transport blow, overnight for a G

He paid up front, they laid up once

She got pregnant, she wouldn’t dead it

She had a boy, named her son Infinite after his father who did dirt

She didn’t know disaster would follow

Capsules and bottles of crack in the back of his Mazda

He let her drive while he drove the burgundy 5

He often talk about how he wants to murder these guys

From off of Bergen Street, had mad work in the street

Lifestyle, richest nigga, far from how he used to be

Never thought he’d rock diamonds;

never took weakness for kindness

That’s how he gradually grew

Did a favor for a favor—now the nigga in with the crew

And now he live major, house in Dix Hills next to Brooke Shields

With the cook and the maid, shit was real

Saved his first bills made in his bodega

«Good luck, player» sign on the paper taped in the window

Escaped from a would-be kidnap, and slept

Thought niggas feared his rep 'til he got wet

Woulda had the world in his hands, his girl did a scam

The owner’s rich, is boning niggas to get rid of her man

Welcome to the game, baby

Always wanted fame, always wanted cash

To live fast, get the girls with the biggest ass

Fuck a 9 to 5, gotta drive a 5

Now that I got it, the hardest thing to do is stay alive

Always wanted fame, always wanted cash

To live fast, get the girls with the biggest ass

Fuck a 9 to 5, gotta drive a 5

Now that I got it, the hardest thing to do is stay alive

The hardest thing to do is stay alive

The hardest thing to do is stay alive