The World is Yours - Nas, National Symphony Orchestra

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

Whose world is this?

I sip the Dom P, watchin Gandhi til I’m charged

Then writin in my book of rhymes, all the words pass the margin

To hold the mic I’m throbbin, mechanical movement

Understandable smooth shit that murderers move wit

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 facin time like

'Pappy'Mason with pens I’m embracin

Wipe the sweat off my dome, spit the phlegm on the streets

Suede Timb’s on my feets, makes my cypher, complete

Whether crusin in a six-cab, or Montero Jeep

I can’t call it, the beats make me fallin asleep

I keep fallin, but never fallin six feet deep

I’m out for presidents to represent me (Say what?)

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

Whose world is this?

To my man Ill Will, God bless your life

It’s yours!

To my peoples throughout Queens, God bless your life

I trip we box up crazy bitches aimin guns in all my baby pictures

Beef with housin police, release scriptures that’s maybe Hitler’s

Yet I’m the mild, money gettin style, rollin foul

The versatile, honey stickin wild, golden child

Dwellin 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 Je-sus'soakin they sins in trays

of holy water, odds against Nas are slaughter

Thinkin a word best describin 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 ya livin large, a broker charge, cards are mediocre

You flippin coke or playin spit spades in strip poker

It’s yours!

It’s mine, it’s mine, it’s mine

Whose world is this?