letra de nothing like me - uncle murda
[intro: uncle murda]
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga (nothing)
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga (nothing)
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga (you ain’t nothing)
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga (jahill beats, holla at me)
[verse 1: dios moreno]
me and my n-ggas was used to not having much
go and get used to that (so?)
whoever tried to stop us from eating, i swear we shooting that
we don’t eat, n0body eat, we making it high
was beefing with dudes that was old enough to be our pops
we was young like bobby shmurda, and they was old age (d-mn)
had ’em saying, “these lil n-ggas ain’t playing no games”
okay, let’s cross that line, i’m with it
smack your n-gga lil sister, go tell your brother i did it (haha)
been in a hundred shootouts, homie i madе it
first time i shoot a n-gga, felt like i graduatеd
crew was so proud of me, all night we celebrated
i was at high school, that’s when craig mack was overrated (haha)
couldn’t finish school, too much beef, never graduated (so?)
shooting out my window at n-ggas, grandma was aggravated (sorry)
anything i spit real, ain’t nothing fabricated (facts)
spitting in the feds’ face, know i’m being investigated (woah)
[chorus: uncle murda]
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga (nothing)
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga (nothing)
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga (you ain’t nothing)
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga
[verse 2: conway the machine]
yeah, machine b-tch, i keep the tec close
drop more steroids, they waiting on their next dose (ha)
twenty chains on, feel like my neck broke
hate rappers, real street n-ggas who i respect most (salute)
shorty got the .40 in his moncler (uh-huh)
sixteen whipping deuces while his mom’s there (we wild)
newspaper on the windows, ain’t no blinds there
smoke a blunt of the sour to get my mind clear (wooh)
can’t name one n-gga that i fear (yeah)
i got hit, it ain’t one n-gga that i spared (hahaha)
it’s my year, one of the illest n-ggas heard in nine years (uh-huh)
christopher wallace mixed with nassir (bump to it)
yeah, i’m top tier, sh-t is not fair
out on melrose, this lamborghini that i steer (vroom)
my n-ggas move the ye’ for the low
we whacking everything, i told murda just say it’s a go (brrrr)
machine b-tch
[chorus: uncle murda]
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga (nothing)
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga (nothing)
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga (you ain’t nothing)
you ain’t nothing, you ain’t nothing like me n-gga
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