lirik lagu avie fresh - watch dem niggas
avatar the articulate – “watch dem n-ggas”
[emcee(s): avatar the articulate (aka avie fresh)]
[producer(s): trackmasters (original instrumental from nas – “watch dem n-ggas”)]
[verse 1: avatar the articulate (aka avie fresh)]
they wanna see you fail, they’re hoping you hit in a hail of bullets
your train to be derailed, the preacher to wail up at your pulpit
you never pictured it. sadly, coworkers be wishing you badly
hating on avie, hoping you crash your benz up while touching the navi’
then wanna get with your girl, wanna scream “rape”
you gotta watch them b-tches too—it’s just from seeing your place
they dumb, they save the c-m when you skeet on their face
be on your papes, you’re the reason they conversate of late
and worst part is it be my heart and my friends. they wanna
bark at lem, see him disembark with his gems
never knew it was you i’d wanna stomp with my timbs, then
cooler heads prevailed. more to lose than jewels, fools packing
tools, bumping ready to die as i cruise
biggie had to lose, lapd clap us en route. what if
2pac shakur never went to rap for them dudes?
rap superstars k!lled, no trail, no pursuit
just a reminder: when you leave, your label better chill with fatal
outlaw players that pop cops that try to slay you
ceos could go, blow poles that try to play who?
me? what? you love my sh-t, n-gga
[hook: avatar the articulate (aka avie fresh) and foxy brown] (x2)
watch dem n-ggas that be close to you
and make sure they do what they supposed to do
‘cause you know they be thinking ‘bout smoking you
never personal, nowadays, it’s the way
[verse 2: avatar the articulate (aka avie fresh)]
the most vulgar, lathery c-m ‘pon the v-lv-, leave her
quick to pull the heater, throwing gem stars and swinging cleavers
hemming up spots, you’re not much for me to speak of
really, how i’ma sound dissing a bunch of weakness
faster than preakness, and you wonder why the industry hits
their own artists, become targets, then they sell at target
it’s all for profit and it isn’t hard to see like sputnik
biggie and pac made bread dead, and ms. wallace
is getting jerked, afeni selling 2pac shirts and
amaru headphones, no xanadu redbones
just clones and homes at graveyards with tombstones. although
big and pac were friends, shots would end that trend
diddy and pac rocked on stage, but bullets sprayed then
n-ggas in prison told him big was out to get him. was he
paranoid, tripping? boys shot you in a chair, limping
now you gotta come hard or appear simping
hit ‘em up—“who shot ya?” got the hood listening while
he stood, kicking some man at that casino—his own
man knew the camera captured the whole scene, so
alibis set, he’s covered when you get wet, then get
biggie hit for kicks just to cover all bets, and what
if biggie was with diddy that time instead of shyne and j.lo?
would they have different lawyers or would the loyal stay true?
so f-ck a deal—i don’t feel like doing sh-t that they do
labels look out for number one, and that ain’t you
no matter the praise and pretty colors they paint you
they hate you since grade school, mad ‘cause they went to trade
school. i made you, i’m deep, geek, you in the wade pool
[hook: avatar the articulate (aka avie fresh) and foxy brown] (x2)
watch dem n-ggas that be close to you
and make sure they do what they supposed to do
‘cause you know they be thinking ‘bout smoking you
never personal, nowadays, it’s the way
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