Trillmatic (feat. A$AP Nast & Method Man) Song Lyrics

Yo, yo-yo, yo
90's era Nasty, yeah
Yo, Ty Beats!

I need some time alone
Cold, my rhymes will turn your mind to stone
That's the work of satan niggas be hating but I'm a pot of gold
This ain't just me rapping it's real and something you gots to know
Catch a mark nigga hating, get him a casket, that bastard's 'bout to go
Whoa, Nasty baby I'm crazy, the 90's raised me
I'm just as smart, probably smarter than half the cats who play me
Brazy, driving miss daisy, hit on my strap
In my zone, mind on my money like where that shit at?
I'm all alone, that's my only hope
And be damned if I'mma chase that with some phony homes, on the real
It be the ones that say, "We got this, that you ain't alone"
As long as I'm here to pull out the Glock 9 and cocked it
He mad you got rich but on the low you should've watched him
Cats conniving, head first into the livest object
"That was your man, now you 'bout to die quick"
Over some fly shit, you feel reminded of your fast-life ventures
And winters, blinded 'til the flashlight enters

I got a funky-funky style with a funky swag
I got a funky-funky style with a funky swag
I bought the funky-funky Nikes got the hat to match
I bought the funky-funky Nikes got the hat to match