LE SON DU JOUR : Nas, « Made You Look »

"Made you look" est le premier titre de l'album God's Son de Nas, sorti en 2002. Quatorze ans plus tard, on danse toujours autant.

"Now let's get it all in perspective For all y'all enjoyment, a song y'all can step with"

"Now let's get it all in perspective For all y'all enjoyment, a song y'all can step with Y'all appointed me to bring rap justice But I ain't five-O, y'all know it's Nas, yo Grey Goose and a whole lot of hydro Only describe us as soldier survivors Stay laced in the best, well-dressed With finesse in a white tee, looking for wifey Thug girl who fly and talks so nicely Put her in the coupe so she can feel the nice breeze We can drive through the city, no doubt But don't say my car's topless, say the titties is out Newness, here's the anthem Put your hand up that you shoot with, count your loot with Push the pool stick in your new crib Same hand that you hoop with, swing around like you stupid King of the town? Yeah, I been that You know I click-clack; where you and your mens at? Do the Smurf, do the Wop, Baseball Bat Rooftop like we bringing '88 back They shooting! Aw, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Getting big money, playboy, your time's up Where them gangstas? Where them dimes at? This ain't rapping, this is Street Hop Now get up off your ass, like your seat's hot My live niggas, lit up the reefer Trunk of the car, we got the streetsweeper Don't start none, won't be none No reason for your mans to panic You don't wanna see no ambulances Knock a pimp's drink down in his pimp cup That's the way you get Timberland'd up Let the music diffuse all the tension Baller convention, free admission Hustlers, dealers and killers can move swift Girls get close, you can feel where the tool's kept All my just-coming homies, parolees Get money, leave the beef alone slowly Get out my face, you people so phony Pull out my waist, the Eagle four-forty They shooting! Aw, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Getting big money, playboy, your time's up Where them gangstas? Where them dimes at? I see niggas running, yo, my mood is real rude I lay you out, show you what steel do Mobsters don't box, my pump shot obliges Every invitation to fight you punk asses Like Pun said: you ain't even en mi clasa Maybach Benz, back seat, TV plasma Ladies looking for athletes or rappers Whatever you choose, whatever you do Make sure he a thug and intelligent too Like a real thoroughbred is Show me love, let me feel how the head is Females who's the sexiest is always the nastiest And I like a little sassiness A lot of class; mami, reach in your bag, pass the fifth I'm a leader at last, this a don you with My 9's will spit, niggas lose consciousness"