[Verse 1: Black Nate]
I've been puttin' in work for five long years
But this year suckaz get nowhere
Cause it's a headache, hearing about the rhymes y'all make
Record after records and still ain't got it straight
I'm the type of nigga to just lead the crew
Don't act like you know, act like you knew
About the idiatic, illiatic consequences, stastic
Take your drawers off like barbwire fences
Who, me? Never to bust under any pressure
Ram shacking through MC's like they clothes dresser
Down with the Get Low, me and the Get Low productions
Can't you tell by the hittin' hard percussions
With the boom and the tap, and the tap
The rhyme's incomplete if it got just that
Be real, do your own like Spike Lee
But you better recognize me, recognize
I think they feel me
[Interlude]
Yeah, recognize me, I think they feel me
Yeah, the sound of the B-L-A-C-K N-A-T-E
[Verse 2: Black Nate]
I'm straight skanless, no mercy for you suckaz
Recognize me before the lyrics straight crush ya
If rap was a felony I would have trigger lock
Blocks and blocks, I sold rocks and rocks
This is the truth, a lot of y'all are rejecting face
If I'm not the real, then my name's not Nate
Props I deserve, the rest of y'all are ass out
And I'm not rolling in a seven deuce glass house
Talkin' about the six nine cutlers, swig the steel gray paint
Others try to flow but man, they can't
Lookin' for a way out, lookin' for a way in
Confused and lost the minute they pick up the pen
Please, please, you're begging for anotha hit
Cause I got ya high off this chronic shit
Be real, do your own like Spike Lee
But you better recognize me, I think they feel me
[Interlude]
Yeah, recognize me, I think they feel me
Hell yeah, the sound of the B-L-A-C-K N-A-T-E
[Verse 3: Black Nate]
You got a minute to pray, a second to die
The reputations so small, couldn't see it with a naked eye
Stick with the chains and the bats, go gang bang
Pushed to the edge cause you feel like Sugarhill Gang
Thirty years from now I'll retire the mic and even then I'll still sound tight
Be real, do your own like Spike Lee
But you better recognize me, I think they feel me
[Interlude]
Yeah, recognize me, I think they feel me
Hell yeah, the sound of the B-L-A-C-K N-A-T-E
[Outro]
Yeah, wanna give props to my nigga JT The Bigga Figga, know what I'm sayin' and everybody down with the Get Low productions. Taking no shorts for the 9-4, 9-5, 9-6, so on and so on. So let the beat roll on and bustas gets thrown on, you know what I'm sayin'? Peace, and I'm out. Black Nate, recognize me, fool