The Art of It (feat. J. Myers)

Uh, 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?

Damn it feels good, it feels good don't it?
La-la-la (yeah)
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

Another bullet manufactured, another man in his casket
Fuck maintaining, that's lame language
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, I duck quick
Seen fire flashes, the type of fire that spit out a magnum

And I'm the type who runs to the drama looking for who clapping
Nike boot, what I eat him, he like food
Pulled out the barrel
Four-fifths rip through bone marrow
Make his toes spiral the dirt
While his feet kick up rock, he's a sprinter
Police agenda, lock up niggas for three winters

When I attack I'm faceless like a iron mask
They get away quick, traceless, lying back, liars pass
I breathe deep like Lamaze class
Live young, obtain wisdom, and die last
Stretched out or in a body bag, I ain't that
Live young, obtain wisdom, and die last

Damn it feels good, it feels good don't it?
La-la-la (yeah)
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

Look, I don't have that much time, candidly, I'm in divorce
Rumors, DUIs, in and out of court
Different judges, assault charges hovers on your boy
Other niggas' wives lust to be under covers with your boy
Y'all don't want an angry Nas on your label
Y'all got plenty checks, CEO, man
I'm only 36, but if it's, point five on the table
I say with all respect my dude

Thank you, we had the best times, but I'm about respect, I'm about the talent I possess
Never know, there could just be a time when I'm behind your desk, then let you go
Could you imagine Nas the exec?
The artist on the masters controlling your release
Probably they wanna wait 'til I'm deceased to honor me

So my product'll be a big commodity
Not bothered if my son and daughter eat off of me
Cautiously I write this next line honestly 'cause I'm a G, there's no beef
I used to open off making 50 G's
But now I spend that on a diamond to make her neck freeze

My larynx'll serenade the hood
I tell the cops my blood dirty, they say I'm all good
TMZ, they hoping when the marriage end I'ma turn to Larry Flynt
Nas is not the average gent, I'm on my classy shit
Here's one small percent of what y'all in store to get
More real nigga shit

Damn it feels good, it feels good don't it?
La-la-la (yeah)
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



Credits
Writer(s): Peter O. Phillips, Anthony Shawn Criss, Nasir Jones, Jamaal Anwar Sublett, Vincent Brown, Keir Gist
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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