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    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 »

    Musique Le son du jour Made you look

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