Made You Look (remix)

[Produced by Salaam Remi] [Intro: Jadakiss] I need it from the top Ahh! This is history, baby Commissioner Steve Stoute Lenny, ha! God's Son, what up? D-Block, what up? Bravehearts, what up? Yeah Yeah, yo [Verse 1: Jadakiss] Yo, ain't nothing but trouble, God When I kick in the door, with D-Block Bravehearts and the double R Don't make me let the machine off This is methadone music that you can lean off "Made You Look" – the remix, with me up on it I copped your shit – now, I break weed up on it And everything is real, I see Like my niggas that been home, but they only got a jail ID I helped the game, it ain't help me I'm top 5, dead or alive, and that's just off one LP And, I still buzz, they feel cuz 'Cause they know the flow's Ill, just like Will was I'm just tryna make sure that my sons wealthy Out of shape, but I make sure that my guns healthy I'm a ape – you can't stand 'Kiss Coming through the hood, in a Aston Vanquish The color of dandruff They said we jumped him I just let the gun snuff him Cop P the Turbo soon as they uncuff him This goes out to all of your mans Why put you in a verse when I can put you in a coroner van? D-Block! [Chorus: Nas & Ludacris] They shooting! Ah, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Getting big money, playboy, your time's up Where them gangsters? Where them dimes at? They shooting! Ah, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book (Yeah, woo!) Getting big money, playboy your time's up (We just getting started! Oh!) Where them gangsters? Where them dimes at? (Luda! Let's go!) [Verse 2: Ludacris] I'm from the school of hard knocks, sneak peeks, and low blows Where X's mark spots and kitchens mark O's (Woo) Where "Love's Gonna Get'cha" and hate is gon' snitch ya And fingers squeeze triggers like boa constrictors It's the–Mr. Luda, Jada, and Nas And our bullets give you a deep-tissue massage (Ah) So hear a song and dance, while I make these ends You never stood half a chance, like Siamese twins (Ah) "They shooting!" "Look in the barrel!" (Woo) Then he made the front page of the Miami Herald Or Chi. Tribune, nozzles with silent doom We in that A-Town Journal as violent goons You should print my information (Yeah), quote my rhymes And keep me in between these New York and L.A. Times I'm just the victim of society, it's 'Cris the Menace With more shit out on the streets than evicted tenants – whoa! [Chorus: Nas] They shooting! Ah, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Gettin big money, playboy your time's up Where them gangsters? Where them dimes at? They shooting! Ah, made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book (Ugh) Gettin big money, playboy your time's up (Ugh) Where them gangsters? Where them dimes at? [Interlude: Nas] Jungle! Wiz! Nashawn! We got 'em scared, look! We got 'em scared, they running! [Verse 3: Nas] Yo, I grasp the ratchet, the blicky, the biscuit, the burner The heat, the toaster, they twist you, you meeting your owner The banger, the hammer, the flamers, I aim at the cannons And can you, manhandling you, you'll be famous, I'll cancel you And cut – that's the end of your movie Pretending. you actin' like you and your mens'll come shoot me My tennis shoes Gucci, Old School, pea-soup green Jean Lee suit on, Veuve Clicquot champagne Friday the 13th, my CD drop I rhyme to more Base than EZ Rock I'm Jason, call up PD watch Them Bravehearts – Jungle and Wiz and Nashawn Ill Will, Rasta, Lake, never revealing his face on— TV or pictures, and we be them niggas Sorry, that I made you wait long, glad them fakes gone We shooting! Squeezing them triggers, with Luda beside me Me and 'Kiss get loonies of weed sent to Styles P Tell him hold his head, God's Son got him We made y'all look, from San Quentin to Rikers Island to Green, Sing Sing...