[Intro: Nas]
Chicago, you're still shootin' up
And Boston, y'all still shootin' up (Yeah)
And Queensbridge stay shootin' up
Even in Wichita, it's wicked, y'all
[Verse 1: Nas]
You see a mic stand lit up under the spotlight
A silhouette of a man slayin' beats that knock right
I treasure whenever niggas or rhetoricals hit
Orchestral tracks and nail it, smooth black velvet
And rap intelligent, but then it's just a low percent
Who blow on some Nas, B.I.G., and Hova shit
No offense but I was over with findin' young spitters whose names I remember
Dave, Jay Rozay
Dissin' your idols kill your future 'less your idol souped up
Jamaica Ave Nas, cherry drop, couped up
Still hittin' clubs grimy niggas occasionally shoot up
Bang-bang, pow-pow, these snorters still toot up
My dead granddad came to my cousin through a psychic
I don't really like it, pay prices for afterlife advice gets
Kinda double jumbled, prefer to take my chances
Who gets out alive? Nobody got the answers
All we got is questions
I told my bitch she hit the genetic lottery
Love it when she lie to me
A friendship is built over time and trust too
But trust is a contract that constantly needs to be renewed
For peace and solitude
Peace and solitude, p-p-p-peace and solitude
Trust me and love me, I trust you and love you
Could you, could you, could you really show love?
Like a tree fallin' in the middle of the forest
Nobody heard your shit drop, it's really garbage
How come rappers you claimin' I got my style from
Never pile one-tenth of my mint?
No diss to them, men who got it in, this is now, that was then
Different style, different Benz, it's clear there's a difference
You resortin' to, uh, distortin' the truth
Grindin', my offspring needs juice, walk in my shoes
Chicago, you're still shootin' up
And Boston, y'all still shootin' up (Yeah)
And Queensbridge stay shootin' up
Even in Wichita, it's wicked, y'all
[Verse 1: Nas]
You see a mic stand lit up under the spotlight
A silhouette of a man slayin' beats that knock right
I treasure whenever niggas or rhetoricals hit
Orchestral tracks and nail it, smooth black velvet
And rap intelligent, but then it's just a low percent
Who blow on some Nas, B.I.G., and Hova shit
No offense but I was over with findin' young spitters whose names I remember
Dave, Jay Rozay
Dissin' your idols kill your future 'less your idol souped up
Jamaica Ave Nas, cherry drop, couped up
Still hittin' clubs grimy niggas occasionally shoot up
Bang-bang, pow-pow, these snorters still toot up
My dead granddad came to my cousin through a psychic
I don't really like it, pay prices for afterlife advice gets
Kinda double jumbled, prefer to take my chances
Who gets out alive? Nobody got the answers
All we got is questions
I told my bitch she hit the genetic lottery
Love it when she lie to me
A friendship is built over time and trust too
But trust is a contract that constantly needs to be renewed
For peace and solitude
Peace and solitude, p-p-p-peace and solitude
Trust me and love me, I trust you and love you
Could you, could you, could you really show love?
Like a tree fallin' in the middle of the forest
Nobody heard your shit drop, it's really garbage
How come rappers you claimin' I got my style from
Never pile one-tenth of my mint?
No diss to them, men who got it in, this is now, that was then
Different style, different Benz, it's clear there's a difference
You resortin' to, uh, distortin' the truth
Grindin', my offspring needs juice, walk in my shoes
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