Queens Get The Money - Album Version (Edited)

Ayo, Queens get the money, niggas still screaming, paper-chasing
Where presidential candidates is planning wars with other nations
Over steak with Masons
Pregnant teens give birth to intelligent gangsters
They daddies faceless

Play this, by your stomach, let my words massage it and rub it
I'll be his daddy if there's nobody there to love it
Tell him his name Nasir, tell him how he got here
Mama was just having fun with someone above her years

Niggas is still hating
Talking that Nas done fell off with rhyming
He'd rather floss with diamonds
They pray, "Please God, let him spit that Uzi in the army lining
That 'shorty doo-wop rolling oo-wops in the park reclining'"

Take 27 emcees, put 'em in a line and they're out of alignment
My assignment since he said retirement
Hiding behind 8 Mile and The Chronic
Get rich but dies rhyming
This is high science

Now add 23 more from Queens to B-more
I'm over their heads like a bulimic on a seesaw
Now that's 50 porch monkeys ate up at the same time
Nasty Nasdaq, y'all gon' bow holmes, this Dow Jones
.80 cal chrome, needed time alone to zone
The mack left his iPhone and his nine at home

My queen used her milkshake to bring y'all to my slaughterhouses
I do this for the group home kids in boarding houses
This that "nigga" shit that's on the album
For them niggas inside the chalk line in 40 houses
Bring back Arsenio

Hip-hop was aborted so Nas breathes life, back into the embryo
Let us make man in our image, spit it
I'm Huey P in Louis V
At the eulogy throwing Molotovs for Emmett
And you ain't as hot as I is
All of these false prophets is not messiahs

You don't know how high the sky is
The square mileage of Earth or what pi is
I'm the shaky hand that touched George Foreman in Zaire
The same hand that punched down devils
That brought down the Towers