Letra Dedicated Nas

Dedicated

Back by popular demand, it's Magic
Ded—, ded—, dedicated (Yeah)

When Carlito was dying
He see the shadow of his girl dancing with the baby
Like, "Fuck it, it's my time", but if God save me
Maybe I'll erase any vice that could potentially bring harm to me
Before I make a move, I think about it karmically
Everything come back like a boomerang
I'm black as Paul Mooney slang
And all I pray for is health and a sustainable business
And a faithful missus
I see a lot of people try to be who they ain't
We don't want money that fit in the bag, we want the bank
Just to spread it around lik? icing on the cake
White tig?r out the cage, Mike Tyson in '88
Dedicated like jack boys on Melrose
Smash and grab, yo, this world became a hellhole
Stay cool is what I tell those (Word) youngins
So they don't end up in jail clothes, come on

I dedicated my life, my life
Dedicated my life, my life (Dedicated)
I dedicated my— (My)
Uh, uh (You know what that is? It's the inspiration)
Dedicated my— (Uh)

Whole damn life
If I wanted to now, I could live an old man life
Confronted with how the hood can use more funding
More budgets for more teachers, financial literacy, more speeches
Chefs come cook for me
Look what it took for me, the streets had its hooks in me
Yeah, people ask me what books to read
Destruction of Black civilization, that's history
Journal of Chris Columbus, that is what interests me
Juneteenth holiday finally came and it pisses me
Off for the fact that we came in chains, you'll be physically in pain
Dedicated like Ricky Walters, Dougie and Dana Dane

I dedicated my life, my life
I dedicated my life, my life (Dedicated)
I dedicated my—, ah
Dedicated my (Dedicated)
I dedicated my life, my life
I dedicated my life, my life
I dedicated my—

Test, test, yeah, you know?
To get to this point
I might have to write a script, a manuscript
Yo, yo

Ghetto manners, is you thuggin' me or asking?
Finessin' me or pressin' me? Well none of that is happenin'
Accessory to murder, not necessarily Manson
I'm just a G in constructs, a Pelle Pel' or a Vanson
Ratty clothes, we haven't spoke in years, pat his coat
Check his waistline, he spyin' on who has the most
Best to leave me alone, I get in my zone
Laughin' with African presidents while over the phone
Shit be feeling like the last days, cash made
Mirrors on the ceiling with a bad babe
Same age but niggas be having mad grays
Million Man March for real niggas, never last place
Blazin' gats like young Haitian Jack
Me and money go together like the 80s and crack
Shorty aura like Kimora rockin' Baby Phat
I'm droppin bars nigga like I'm on stage with Smack
To my niggas who have staples from the navel up
Healed up, had to chill a while, lay in the cut
Shorty tried to WAP me down in the Mercedes truck
Pulled up, cobblestone ground in my palatial hut
Paradis for niggas still doing deals in the street
Original Backwoods, I fill 'em with green
Am I a musician or am I a magician?
No tricks, just real shit straight out the kitchen

Pure magic
No tricks, no tricks
No tricks
No tricks, pure magic (Magic, magic, magic, magic, magic)