(Check that shit)
Aight fuck that shit, word word
Fuck that other shit, youknowhatI´msayin?
We gon´ do a little somethin like this, yaknahmsayin?
(Is they up on this?)
Keep it on and on and on and on and..
KnowhatI´msayin? Big Nas, Grand Wizard, God what it is?
(What it is like?) Hah, knowhatI´msayin?
Yo go ´head, do that shit nigga

[Nas]
I rap for listeners, blunt heads, fly ladies and prisoners
Henessey holders and old school niggaz, then I be dissin a
unofficial that smoke woolie thai
I dropped out of Kooley High, gassed up by a cokehead cutie pie
Jungle survivor, fuck who´s the liver
My man put the battery in my back, a differencem from Energizer
Sentence begins indented.. with formality
My duration´s infinite, moneywise or physiology
Poetry, that´s a part of me, retardedly bop
I drop the ancient manifested hip-hop, straight off the block
I reminisce on park jams, my man was shot for his sheep coat
Childhood lesson make me see him drop in my weed smoke
It´s real, grew up in trife life, did times or white lines
The hype vice, murderous nighttimes, and knife fights invite crimes
Chill on the block with Cog-nac, hold strap
with my peeps that´s into drug money, market into rap
No sign of the beast in the blue Chrysler, I guess that means peace
For niggaz no sheisty vice to just snipe ya
Start off the dice-rollin mats for craps to cee-lo
With sidebets, I roll a deuce, nothin below (Peace God!)
Peace God -- now the shit is explained
I´m takin niggaz on a trip straight through memory lane
It´s like that y´all.. it´s like that y´all.. it´s like that y´all

[Chorus: repeat scratches 4X]

"Now let me take a trip down memory lane" -> [BizMarkie]
"Comin outta Queensbridge"

[Nas]
One for the money
Two for pussy and foreign cars
Three for Alize niggaz deceased or behind bars
I rap divine Gods check the prognosis, is it real or showbiz?
My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses
Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real
A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja
Here´s my basis, my razor embraces, many faces
Your telephone blowin, black stitches or fat shoelaces
Peoples are petrol, dramatic automatic fo´-fo´ I let blow
and back down po-po when I´m vexed so
my pen taps the paper then my brain´s blank
I see dark streets, hustlin brothers who keep the same rank
Pumpin for somethin, some uprise, plus some fail
Judges hangin niggaz, uncorrect bails, for direct sales
My intellect prevails from a hangin cross with nails
I reinforce the frail, with lyrics that´s real
Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats
I decifer prophecies through a mic and say peace.
I hung around the older crews while they sling smack to dingbats
They spoke of Fat Cat, that nigga´s name made bell rings, black
Some fiends scream, about Supreme Team, a Jamaica Queens thing
Uptown was Alpo, son, heard he was kingpin, yo
Fuck ´rap is real´, watch the herbs stand still
Never talkin to snakes cause the words of man kill
True in the game, as long as blood is blue in my veins
I pour my Heineken brew to my deceased crew on memory lane

[Chorus]

"Comin outta Queensbridge" -> [scratched]

The most dangerous MC is..
"Comin outta Queensbridge" -> [scratched]

The most dangerous MC is..
"Comin outta Queensbridge" -> [scratched]

The most dangerous MC is..
"Comin outta Queensbridge" -> [scratched]

The most dangerous MC is..
Me numba won, and you know where me from