Текст, перевод и аккорды “Can't Have Nuttin'”
- Intro: Niggas just can't have nuttin' (have nuttin') Niggas just can't have nuttin' (have nuttin') Niggas just can't have nuttin' (Nowadays yo) Niggas just can't have (niggas just can't have) Niggas just can't have (niggas just can't have) Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin') Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin') Niggas niggas nowadays yo Verse 1: Dray Well yo, they used to say that Dray was a motherfuckin bum Cos when it came to profit, son I really wasn't gettin none The wilest motherfucker that you ever saw They used to call me Petey Wheezthrow, the devil's son-in-law Now I'm in the shit, like a fly I was buggin From robbin to stealin to dealin, yo, and even muggin Sellin cocaine in the high school halls Playin it slick I kept the balms up in some tennis balls I used to run across the bridge with my peeps I packed a tray-8, in dem days I was playin for keeps I used to roll around my hat and all day lookin for a prey that we could rob on Broadway Stickin niggas for their jewels if they're worthy Made a couple of hits and then we jetted back to Jersey '86 and '87 was the year had the Gucci hat, rock the rac-coon fur coat yeah Keep em in disguise and nigga don't ya blink See yeah Saturday, we robbed another nigga at the rink The beats was always showin up at my rest askin Does a certain Drayzie live at this address? Yes? The spot was hotter than the sun, without a doubt I had the choice to go to school and get the fuck out! I hit the South just like a bandit cos I was stranded Virginia State in '88, you know that's where I landed I couldn't stand it, shit was feelin strange I made it outta range but yo, my shit was just about the dough Chorus: Aiyo, niggas just can't have nuttin ( Yo niggas just can't have nuttin) Niggas just can't have nuttin (niggas just can't have nuttin) Niggas just can't have nuttin (niggas just can't have nuttin) Niggas just can't have nuttin (Nowadays yo) *repeat x2* Verse 2: Skoob Yo bust a move, peep the flav cos I'ma take you back to the days of brown envelope trays Twenty-something years ago as I proceed to recollect a newborn shorty had to 'ford cheques off Bushwick Bless the days, Pops shot to get forth the *?vock?* and fifth Damn, fam got to shift from the tenth flo' down four flights to the sixth This was around the time smokin reefer was the shit But now the crib a little bigger I was the first man in the fam so it's plans for a nigga Had my clan from my building and my man from 8-11 wit me when we hit the jams behind 2-57 Mom's babysittin, Pop's on the hustle 54 block was on lock, bust a knuckle Game rip, some niggas slipped and got greedy Believe me, another rest in peace in graffitti But I couldn't resist a few fights and petty heists cos now I'm 'cross town in the Heights My nights are a little quieter but still amongst the schemes for the fun Where sons run guns and blow slums with the dums And motherfuckers don't care I love the street game so I stashed the green leaf by the air You couldn't tell me shit, evil was more eager than a beaver Kept it fresh, double-parked in the Caesar but I got deceased with this behaviour-type flavor and do Moms a favour, go to school and get this fuckin paper So what's the caper cos now I'm all in at Virginia State, now let the bullshit begin Chorus: Nowadays niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin') Niggas just can't have nuttin' (Yo niggas just can't have nuttin') Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin') Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin' yo) Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin' yo) Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin') Niggas just can't have nuttin' (nuttin', nuttin', nuttin', nuttin') Nowadays niggas (niggas just can't have nuttin') Verse 3: Dray, Skoob It was '89 and yo, I'm stayin out of fights I'm runnin with this nigga named Books from Crown Heights Gettin toe-up from the flow-up, we're drinkin til we throw up We're thinkin we can blow up so to class we wouldn't show up Well nigga so what? You fucked the holdup and went whatevers then bucked the leathers, son I got to get my shit together Gettin drunk, gettin flunked in class is what's the function Smokin blunts-in, son we need to stop frontin We're goin huntin, Virginia didn't have shit for us That's why we broke out with Dice and blitzed into blue chorus Gettin busy, flippin rhymes on the weekend The deal we was seekin from st
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