Hey yo,
Queens get the money niggas still screaming, paper chasing
But presidential candidates is planning wars with other nations over steak with masons
Pregnant teens give birth to intelligent gangsters they daddies faceless
Play this, by ya stomach, let my words massage it and rub it
I'll be his daddy if there's nobody there to love it
Tell him his name Nasir, tell him how he got here
Momma was just having fun with someone above her years
Niggas is still hating
Talking that Nas done fell off with rhyming, he rather floss with diamonds?
They pray please God, let him spit that ozzie and the army lining?
That shorty doowop rolling oo-whops in the park recycling?
Take 27 emcees, put them in a line and they out of alignment
My assignments since he said retirement
Hiding behind 8 mile and The Chronic
Get's rich but dies rhyming, this is high science
Now add 23 more for queens to be more, I?m over they heads
Like a bulimic on a sea-saw
Now that's 50 porch monkeys ate up at the same time
Nasty Nas that
Yall gonna bow holmes, this is dow Jones
80 cal. chrome, needed time alone to zone
The mack left his iPhone and his nine at home
My queen used her milkshake to bring ya'll to my slaughterhouses
I do this for the group home kids and boarding houses
This that nigga shit that's on the album
For them niggas inside the calk lining, 40 houses
Bring back Arsenio,
Hip hop was aborted, so Nas breaths life back into the embryo
Let us make man in our image, spit it,
I'm Huey P. and Louie V. at the eulogy throwing malatas for Emmit
You ain't as hot as I is
All of these false prophets is not messiahs
You don't know how high the sky is
The square mileage of earth or what pie is
I'm the shaky hand that touched George Foreman in Zaire
The same hand that punched down devils that brought down the towers
Songwriters
POWELL, JOHN JAMES / JONES, NASIRPublished by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.