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Nas - The World Is Yours

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Whose world is this? The world is yours. The world is yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this? It's yours! It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this? The world is yours. The world is yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine.

I sip the Dom P, watching "Gandhi" until I'm charged. Then writing in my book of rhymes, all the words past the margin. To hold the mic, I'm throbbing, 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 feets 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 dead presidents to represent me.

Whose world is this? The world is yours. The world is yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this? The world is yours. The world is yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this? It's yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this? The world is yours. The world is yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine.

To my man, Ill Will, God bless your life. To my peoples throughout Queens, God bless your life. I trip. We box up crazy bitches. Aiming guns in all my baby pictures. Beef with housing police. Release scriptures that's maybe Hitler's. Yet I'm the mild, money-getting style, rolling foul. The versatile, honey-sticking wild golden child. Dwelling in the Rotten Apple, you get tackled or caught by the devil's lasso. Shit is a hassle. There's no days for broke days. We sell it. Smoke pays. While all the old folks pray to Jesús, soaking their sins in trays of holy water, odds against Nas are slaughter. Thinking a word best describing my life to name my daughter. My strength, my son, the star, will be my resurrection. Born in correction. All the wrong shit I did, he'll lead a right direction. "How you living?" Large, a broker charge. Cards are mediocre. You flipping coke or playing spit spades and strip poker?

It's yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this? The world is yours. The world is yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this? It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this? Yo! The world is yours. The world is yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this?

I'm the young city bandit. Hold myself down single-handed. For murder raps, I kick my thoughts alone, get remanded. Born alone, die alone, no crew to keep my crown or throne. I'm deep by sound alone. Ccaved inside, 1,000 miles from home. I need a new nigga for this black cloud to follow because while it's over me it's too dark to see tomorrow. Trying to maintain, I flip, fill the clip to the tip. Picturing my peeps not eating can make my heartbeat skip. And I'm amped up. They locked the champ up. Even my brain's in handcuffs. Headed for Indiana, stabbing women like the Phantom. The crew is lamping Big Willie style. Check the chip-toothed smile plus I profile wild. Stash loot in fly clothes, burning dollars to light my stove. Walk the blocks with a bop, checking dames plus the games people play. Bust the problems of the world today.

It's yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this? The world is yours. The world is yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this? It's yours. It's mine. It's mine. It's mine. Whose world is this? The world is yours. The world is yours.

Video Details

Duration: 4 minutes and 8 seconds
Country: United States
Language: English
License: All rights reserved
Views: 753
Posted by: eslhiphop.com on Sep 21, 2013

This video is part of ESLhiphop.com's learning series. I do not own this music, the lyrics or video. Used for educational purposes. All Rights Reserved.

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