The Black Bond - Nas

I pull a string on the lamp and shit darkens

I’m living in an elegant Moroccan apartment

Proletarian chicks sparking

Convo weak and I don’t really care for her jargon

Balcony is windy, looking at the stars and

Alky on the Henny, woozy in the head, wobbling

Gucci pillow on the bed, while she giving nogging

Listening and tripping off the Maxwell album

Thinking I should leave to a European island

Bristol and Spain, bring a book about Stalin

Dinner serenaded with a violin

But shorty not qualified to be took to that kind of outing

Gotta be a fly bitch to hang around that fly shit

Fine dining Olive Garden

Nah bitch, Nas is In the real deal

Food spots on the constant

Pick the right wine, a Chianti to wash it

Lifestyle encompasses top-notch watches

Rolexes, synonymous shit I’m copping

Ask her has she been around duffle bags

Full of that fuck you cash

Get off the jet with me in heels, I’ll cup your ass

Looking in my eyes saying «Nas, you’re one lucky bastard»

Grip your clutch, you’ll get finger fucked in the passenger

I hit the dutch, blow smoke out, music and laughter

See us in the coupe flying past ya

Esco, dress code, it changes

Harrods in England

Back to the star spangled labels in my closet hanging

Counting wonder in the Tundra

Get humbled or disgruntled when I come through, confront ya

Let nothing slide, sly remarks, you must wanna die

But you fronting, why?

When we all know you pumpkin pie

When we in the bus we fly better shit than Emirates

To Dubai, to the Chi, I’m a crucial conflict

Heaven sent, cause a storm, typhoon flood you out

You are what a thug about, I’m a fucking juggernaut

Never sleep, never tire, keep a freak I tie up

Who don’t speak, she quiet

So I can think, conspire

On my feet’s a (?), and sometimes sneakers

Wear ties at the Setai Miami

Time-pieces are from Zurich

It’s like I’m allergic, to Nonoxynol 9

Give it to you raw so you can feel it