album: It Was Written (1996)
genre:

Send "Street Dreams" Ringtone to Cell

Uhh, what, what, uhh.. 

Chorus: Nas (set to Eurythmics "Sweet Dreams") 

Street dreams are made of these 
Niggaz push Beemers and 300 E's 
A drug dealer's destiny is reachin a key 
Everybody's lookin for somethin.. 
Street dreams are made of these 
Shorties on they knees, for niggaz with big G's 
Who am I to disagree? 
Everybody's lookin for somethin.. 

[Nas] 
My man put me up for the share, one-fourth of a square 
Headed for Delaware, with one change of gear 
Nothin on my mind but the dime sack we blazed 
with the glaze in my eye, that we find when we crave 
dollars and cents, a fugitive with two attempts 
Jakes had no trace of the face, now they drew a print 
Though I'm innocent, til proven guilty 
I'ma try to filthy, purchase a club and start up realty 
For real G, I'ma fullfill my dream 
If I conceal my scheme, then precisely I'll build my cream 
the first trip without the clique 
Sent the bitch with the quarter brick, this is it 
Fresh face, NY plates got a Crooked I for the Jakes 
I want it all, ArmorAll Benz and endless papes 
God sake, what nigga got to do to make a half million 
without the FBI catchin feelings 

Chorus 

[Nas] 
From fat cat to papi, niggaz see the cat 
Twenty-five to flat, push a thousand feet back 
Holdin gats wasn't making me fat, snitches on my back 
Livin with moms, gettin it on, flushin crack down the toilet 
Two sips from bein alcoholic 
Nine hundred ninety nine thou from bein rich but now I'm all for it 
My man saw it like Dionne Warwick 
A wiser team, for a wiser dream we could all score with 
The cartel Argentina coke with the nina 
Up in the hotel, smokin on sessamina 
Trina got the fishscale between her 
The way the bitch shook her ass yo the dogs never seen her 
She got me back livin sweeter, fresh Caesar 
Guess, David Robinson's, Walle' moccasins 
Bitches blow me while hoppin in the drop-top BM 
Word is bond son, I had that bitch down on my shit like this 

Chorus 

[Nas] 
Growin up project-struck, lookin for luck dreamin 
Scopin the large niggaz beamin, check what I'm seein 
Cars, ghetto stars pushin ill Europeans 
G'n, heard about them old timers OD'n 
Young, early 80's, throwin rocks at the crazy lady 
Worshippin every word them rope rockin niggaz gave me 
The street raised me up, givin a fuck 
I thought Jordan's and a gold chain was livin it up 
I knew the dopes, the pushers, the addicts everybody 
Cut out of class, just to smoke blunts and drink naughty 
Ain't that funny? Gettin put on to crack money 
With all the gunplay, paintin the kettle black hungry 
A case of beers in the staircase I wasted years 
Some niggaz went for theirs, flippin coke as they career 
But I'm a rebel stressin, to pull out of the heat no doubt 
With Jeeps tinted out, spendin never holdin out 

Chorus 2X

Send "Street Dreams" Ringtone to Cell