Queens Get The Money - Nas

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

Gets 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