NAS "THE WORLD IS YOURS 1994
I sip the Dom P, watching Gandhi til I'm charged
Then writing in my book of rhymes, all the words past the margin
To hold the mic I'm throbbin', mechanical movement
Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with
The thief's theme - play me at night, they won't act right
The fiend of hip-hop has got me stuck like a crack pipe
The mind activation, react like I'm facing time like
Pappy Mason, with pens I'm embracing
Wipe the sweat off my dome, spit the phlegm on the streets
Suede Timbs on my feet makes my cipher complete
Whether cruising in a Sikh's cab or Montero Jeep
I can't call it; the beats make me falling asleep
I keep falling, but never falling six feet deep
I'm out for presidents to represent me (say what)
I'm out for presidents to represent me (say what)
I'm out for dead presidents to represent me
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