M.M.O.: A jazzy rhyme

[Intro: Naisha (Triggnomm)] Yo this shit's recording kid So drop some jazz shit (drop some shit) Drop some jazzy shit, (put the blunts down) Drop some jazzy shit, (son set it off, set it off) [Naisha] The State of Naisha, mug like Tai Yung Piss fruit wine, travel like fruit flies Through blue skies, America, San Pucci can take Cushion, I owe extinction, and play bronze Wit violins, we deep like talons It's Costello, the classic M.J. smoke weed says Live like the life on ya R.C.A. The odyssey, blood and poetry, the shako wit pottery A mockery, to slay me a Mussolini wit Kennedy Muscle me, Emilio Savage team Goodfellas is obscene, my off the can is fuck up the scene Bonjour Madame, sushi, you bleed burgundy Oh sanata, doing a bada, Benjamin on Pearl Harbor Uh, you feeling it, spoke the smooth words of Shawn Carter My day will hood ya rob saga, the city in red Seen the crew, dealt the income, seven P.M. Bermuda tennis, remember in the A.M. Shit like stankon, or bredren, we spread like tiger bomb Twisted and feel it on, black espionage Bump Nas, crack the Naisha, all in favor [Chorus 2X: Triggnomm] It's a jazzy rhyme from the J to the Z Wit a classic shine like a '98 M3 Smooth as Badu, slow mo' from Malibu To Honolulu, The Massive, we comin' through [Triggnomm] Peep the latest, medallions players My scene is a drop top black Beem, interior mint green Plus loaded, pass Naish' the dice, bet he roll it 4-5-6, stock bank, now we holdin' Niggas is cucci, we absolutely get the lucci Son, I love money, like Ricky love Lucy In fact, I know this cat in Colorado named Ricardo Pushin' milato's, money and murder was his motto He read the Bible, that's only cuz he live the trifle New his days were numbered the surface of disciple Meanwhile, he stay browsin' for housin' Cuz black cats just can't play these maps wit thousands Ice jewels, cuz cash rule, keep a two True hard knock, take that ass straight to school, son I got a feeling we gon' rise this far Word bonds, scratchin' my palm, eatin' shrimp parmegan True Don Juan, wit the iced out clusters on You gots to hustle, then son, get ya hustle on You gots to gamble, then son, get ya gamble on Big Trigga, best believe, I'm gon' handle long [Chorus 4X]