The Set Up [Turkish translation]

[Intro: Nas (Havoc)]

Uhh.. (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Q.B. since 1933 (no doubt)

To nine-six (nine-six motherfucker)

Check the shit

[Havoc]

Nine-six, Escobar 600

[Verse 1: Nas (Havoc)]

Check the shit

My mind's set, son got wet, I'm vexed really

They snatched off his Rolex, smacked his bitch silly

Why niggas actin' illy? Word to Will, he 'bout to feel it

I feel it, he shoulda been dealt with it

Them niggas sour, they put to much flour in their coke

And got the nerve to wonder WHY THEY'RE BROKE

While we was gleamin', niggas was schemin'

Seen the ill Beamers beamin'

Triple-beam and doublin' cream had 'em fiendin'

To get they fingers on the dosa, I called Sosa

"Sosa, these niggas hit the God, bring the toaster

Meet me in the Bridge, I'm bout to go loca"

Left my rat beggin' me to stay and stroke her

He came through with two fly bitches, Venus and Vicious

With two MACs inside the Volvo, what up God, I'm still sober

I need some Henn to bend me over, my nigga Hav gotta soldier

It's gettin' down, it's goin' down kid (I got this, I got this)

I heard he might not live, I'm holdin' back tears

Told these broads to put it in gear

With two females that don't smile, diggin' they style, yo

What up son? These niggas done started somethin' wild

You know the clique well, Rhamel with the gold in his grill

Tried to get a name, holding the steel

I paid attention to the females

Maintained bitches when it get real

Sos' pulled me close and told me the deal

He said both hoes'll peel

Spray shots and reload and still handle the wheel

Point 'em out, smoke a Phil' then chill

I laid back, Escobar status

Knowin' The Firm got it cornered, we on it, shit we was born with

[Chorus: Havoc]

Spark the lye, Q.B.C. yo it's do or die

In this, business of trifeness

I finesse this, Boyardee, we chef shit

Perfect shit, Albert Einstein minds connect wit'

Dangerous sons, step back let the TEC lift

Lift you up, bless you with a shorty then we set you up

Spark the lye, Q.B.C. yo it's do or die

In this, business of trifeness

We finesse this, Boyardee, we chef shit

Perfect shit, Albert Einstein minds connect wit'

Dangerous sons, step back let the TEC lift

Lift you up, bless you with a shorty then we set you up

[Verse 2: Nas]

Hold it right there, pull over

That nigga right there inside the Rover

I knew he'd be right here, I told you

Let's get him now, look at him smile, ice Bulova

Polo pullover, big links and rockin' boulders

He's stuntin', after he left my man like that

Without a fair chance to fight back, but I'll be right back

He never seen us, Sos' gave the MAC to Venus

And Vicious, lookin' delicious, handle yo' business

And step to him, shake your ass, try to screw him

Do what ya gotta do to get to him

A tight Parasuco with young faces

Can turn niggas Buttafuoco, of all ages

They was amused by the way they walked, way they talked

Only if they knew these girls had sprayed New York

If they had to, heard him ask Venus, "Could I have you?"

He jumped out a Jeep, heard her tell him "Don't grab, boo"

They started chattin', was only bout a minute, flat when

They jumped in the back of the Jeep laughin'

We followed them pollyin', he thought the hoes were Somalian

Probably when they hit the Holiday Inn

I grabbed the phone and called the Mobb and them

We laid low about a hour or so, these bitches movin' too slow

We both holdin', what if them wild hoes started foldin'?

Sosa said "Say no more", we started rollin'

Before we got in they must have shot him, security wildin'

There the girls go, hurry up we out

In the 940, me, Sosa and two shorties

The punk niggas got murdered in the orgy

[Chorus: Havoc]

Spark the lye, Q.B.C. yo it's do or die

In this, business of trifeness

I finesse this, Boyardee, we chef shit

Perfect shit, Albert Einstein minds connect wit'

Dangerous sons, step back let the TEC lift

Lift you up, bless you with a shorty then we set you up

[Outro: Woman]

Q.B.C., Queensbridge motherfucker

Roping niggas up

Cause our clique is thick

Another day, another dollar

More money, more murder

Fuck this shit, Q.B. up in the house

• Artist:Nas
• Album:It Was Written