Listen up, gangstas and honeys with your hair done,
Pull up a chair, hon, and put it in the air, son.
Dawg, whatever they call your God, just listen,
I spit a story backwards, it starts at the ending.
The bullet goes back in the gun,
The bullet hole's closin' this chest of a nigga,
Now he back to square one,
Screamin', “Shoot don't, please!”
I put my fifth back on my hip,
It's like a VCR rewindin' a hit,
He put his hands back on his bitch,
My caravan doors open up,
I jumped back in the van and closed it shut.
Goin' reverse, slowly prepared,
My nigga Jungle utters out something crazy like, “Go he there!”
Sittin' in back of this chair, we hittin' the roach,
The smoke goes back in the blunt, the blunt gets bigger in growth,
Jungle unrolls it, put his weed back in the jar,
The blunt turns back into a cigar.
We listen to Stevie, it sounded like heavy metal fans
Spinnin' records backwards of AC/DC,
I give my niggas dap, jump out the van back first,
Back upstairs, took off the black shirt,
I'm in the crib with the phone to my ear,
Listen up so y'all can figure out the poem real clear.
The voice on the phone was like, “Outside right we”,
So with my mouth wide, holdin' my heat,
Bullets, I had plenty to squeeze, plenty for you,
‘Cause Jungle said, “Block your on enemy's the”.
Hung up the phone, then the phone rang,
I'm laid in the bed thinkin' ‘bout this pretty young thing,
Who left, she came back, her clothes just fell to the rug,
She fell to my bed and gave me a hug.
I told her, “No hell!”
She talkin' ‘bout, “Me kiss.”
Bobbed her head then spit the nut back in my dick,
Started suckin' with no hands, a whole lotta spit,
Then got up and put her bra back on her tits,
Got fully dressed and told me, “Stressed really I'm”,
Picked up her Gucci bag and left a nigga behind.
Walkin' through the door, she rang the bell twice,
I vomited vodka back in my glass with juice and ice,
The clock went back from three, to two, to one,
And that's about the time the story begun.
That's when I first heard the voicemail on the cell,
It said, son, we found that nigga we gotta kill.
– Ayo, son, ayo, son, you hear me, you hear me? Listen, man, this dude right on the block, right now, man! I found him, right now, I see him right now. Let's kill him!
– Yo, this Nas! Leave it. Peace.
Listen up, gangstas and honeys with your hair done,
Pull up a chair, hon, and put it in the air, son.
Dawg, whatever they call your God, just listen,
I spit a story backwards, it starts at the ending.
The bullet goes back in the gun,
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