Track byNas
Dre he a Compton-Compton O.G. Nas he a QB-QB true G Do the history Way before The Firm like back in the day Nas was the first New York nigga rapping with Dre So of course I got a track to bring it back to your face The one kid that would've been Aftermath that got away But we still get together like every several years to sprinkle a little bit of Heaven for your ears Relax sipping Calico in Rio stupid fuckers Low-key know G's but it's still Gucci luggage I love Cape Cod and watching fly bitches with grey eyes wrestle in a tub of KY to get my day by I like to celebrate why 'cause I can vision collages and images of my lies with no regret to hate So every breath I take is all about the rules It's hard for you to breathe like you at high altitude So crack the Patron it's on heathens The God's back Hard body Mr. Jones never leaving Hustlers dealers drop-top riders Make that cake cop two five fivers Pimps and players platinum diamonds East to West Coast we riders Hustlers dealers drop-top riders Make that cake cop two five fivers Pimps and players platinum diamonds East to West Coast oh yeah He a Compton-Compton O.G. Mix that with a QB-QB true G What you got's A concoction of some different ghetto blocks West Coast kill the tracks East Coast gunshots He a Compton-Compton O.G. Mix that with a QB-QB true G What you got's A concoction of some different ghetto blocks West Coast kill the tracks East Coast gunshots 1995 eleven years from the day I'm in the record shop with choices to make Illmatic on the top shelf The Chronic on the left homie Wanna cop both but only got a twenty on me So fuck it I stole both spent the twenty on a dub sack Ripped the package off Illmatic and bumped that For my niggaz it was too complex when Nas rhymed I was the only Compton nigga with a New York State of Mind Inside the dope house bottling up sherm banging The Firm Dre was king then so I waited my turn Fast forward now I'm making them burn Ended my peers careers hollered at Nas a hard lesson was learned So I reconciled my differences like he did with Jigga I stopped beefing with niggaz 'cause I'm Ether to niggaz Comb the earth till there's no one left If I Ruled the World I summons all you weak rap niggaz to death He a Compton-Compton O.G. Mix that with a QB-QB true G What you got's A concoction of some different ghetto blocks West Coast kill the tracks East Coast gunshots Yo the Jordans sporting Come off the dice game with a fortune walking you a walking coffing The musket I tucked it you bluff it I bust it You're sideways talking so I lay often I wait patient to duct tape hating Fuck ass niggaz get bucked ass niggaz Pluck ashes of Cuban cigars you fooling with Nas That's my name and I came with Rugers this time And if I'm sane that Soul Plane movie's the bomb Word to my mom's name tattooed to my arm You can't revolve me embalm me calm me or harm me Rob me or dodge these bullets I'm busting See that's malarky you yapping I open up the tripod to put the gatling on and I start clapping Nasty man from bagging grams and running from cops to a mill' on the hand a mill' on the watch I'm fucking with Doc Hustlers dealers drop-top riders Make that cake cop two five fivers Pimps and players platinum diamonds East to West Coast we riding Hustlers dealers drop-top riders Make that cake cop two five fivers Pimps and players platinum diamonds East to West Coast oh yeah