[Bridge: Nas & The Game]
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 gun— {*shot*}
[Verse 2: The Game]
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 20 on me
So fuck it, I stole both, spent the 20 on a dub sack
Ripped✦ the package off 'Illmatic'✦ and bumped✦ that
For my niggas,✦ it was too complex when Nas rhymed✦
I was the only✦ Compton✦ nigga✦ with a "New York State of Mind"
Inside✦ the dope house, bottlin' up sherm, bangin'✦ The Firm
Dre was king then, so I waited✦ my turn
Fast forward, now I'm making✦ 'em 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 beefin'✦ with niggas,✦ ‘cause I'm "Ether" to niggas✦
Comb the Earth, 'til there's✦ no one left
"If I Ruled✦ The World," I'd summons all you weak rap niggas✦ to death
[Bridge: Nas & The Game]
He a Compton-Compton✦ OG
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✦ (Yeah)
[Verse 3: Nas]
Yo, the Jordans sportin', come off the dice game
With a fortune walkin',✦ you a walking✦ coffin'✦
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 hatin'✦
Fuck ass niggas,✦ get bucked✦ ass niggas✦
Pluck ashes✦ of Cuban✦ cigars,✦ you foolin'✦ 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 yappin'✦
I open✦ up the tripod to put the Gatling on, and I start clappin'
Nasty✦ man, from bagging grams and runnin'✦ from cops
To a mill' on the hand, a mill' on the watch, I'm fuckin'✦ with Doc
[Chorus: Marsha Ambrosius]
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 Coastin' O.G