[Lyrics] Nas – Earvin Magic Johnson Lyrics

On my Earvin Magic Johnson, I’m enterprising
I keep it ghetto like the hood before they gentrified it
I might burn this bitch down, Left Eye, Andre Rison
I can’t trust you built for cuban links unless we tied in
Shout to Rae and Ghost
Can it be all so simple? One of my favorite quotes
From 42nd Street, days of pimps wearing suede loafs
That McDonalds is still there where we had to trade blows
Then I stood on stages, Australia on occasion
Country Club, House of Blues, stadium status, hands wavin’
Hip-Hop 50 celebration, funny we the same age and
We just keep on getting iller, word to Heavy, word to Dilla
Word to Hev, word to Dilla
Milk D, I’m top billin’, cooked in soul, grandma’s skillet
And they rearrange my quotes, try to make me out the villain
Have you jammed up like what you spread on toast
Here’s a dose of that interesting poetry others wishing they wrote
We don’t smell y’all smoke, you should try a different approach
Word to Hev, word to Dilla
Overweight pockets for my niggas ’til the scales tippin’, get it?
On my Earvin Magic Johnson, I’m enterprising
I keep it ghetto like the hood before they gentrified it
I might burn this bitch down, Left Eye, Andre Rison
I can’t trust you built for cuban links unless we tied in
(Only built for Cuban links)
I can’t trust you built for cuban links unless we tied in
(Only built for Cuban links)
I can’t trust you built for none of this unless we tied in
Family ties, squad ties, money ties
Suit and ties, shoes tied, ready to ride, choose a side
Thought I told you all the time that we was surfin’
And you know I’m down for my niggas, free C-Murder
Fuck the chat, you know that I’m ’bout my mathematics
When you run up mad numbers, yeah, that’s when they get the maddest
Acrobatics with the alphabets, I gave out Pateks
And I gave out Rollies and new Ranges to the baddest
Plus I wear the scars from the streets, ducking the mark of the beast
I know some brothers doin’ life, they say, “Nas talkin’ for me”
My brother Will for real, he used to thug the thugs
I’m throwin’ George Washingtons ’cause we them ones, uh
Word to Hev, word to Dilla
Rest up, half a million on an island all alone, I still ball
Me and Wilson put up forty on the board
At the Forum like I’m Magic and Kareem on the floor
Pat Riley on the bench callin’ plays, I just score (I just score, I just score)
Callin’ plays, we just score (I just score, yeah)
Word to Hev, word to Dilla
Milk D, I’m top billin’, cooked in soul, grandma’s skillet, get it?
On my Earvin Magic Johnson, I’m enterprising
I keep it ghetto like the hood before they gentrified it
I might burn this bitch down, Left Eye, Andre Rison
I can’t trust you built for cuban links unless we tied in
(Only built for Cuban links)
I can’t trust you built for cuban links unless we tied in
(Only built for Cuban links)
I can’t trust you built for none of this unless we tied in