The Art of It Nas (Ft. J. Myers)

[Verse 1: Nas]
Fire spitter, I ain't never met a higher nigga
Me extinguished is like Queensbridge fiendless
Mansion, marble foyer
I can afford a closet in alphabet order
A life, Adidas under A, the B for beater, Bottega
British Knights sneaker, my C so ill
That, man, I get chills when I look at my Christian Diors, they kill
D is for Dries Van Noten
Young niggas try to keep up with what I'm doing
D cups, tequila and blunts
Weed, women, and liquor
Depending on the day is a different mission
They not knowing, they wanna know what he got on
The QB Don went and got his Pete Rock on
Nas keep a fine bitch to roll his weed up for him
My niggas in Mount Vernon keep it G'd up for him
Speaking of G, the gat I'm good with it, hit your hood with it
.44s never could miss him, coming to see us
Glad to see you made it home to the hood, nigga
We blowing trees, tell me, don't it feel good, nigga?

[Chorus: J. Myers]
Damn it feels good, it feels good don't it?
La-la-la
Put that good shit in the air (Yeah)
La-la-la
Niggas in the hood don't live forever (My G niggas)
As long as we together (My QB niggas)
We gon' put that good shit in the air (Yeah)
La-la-la