The World Is Yours

[Produced by Pete Rock] [Hook: Pete Rock, (Nas), {Interpolation}] {It's yours} 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? [Verse 1] I sip the Dom P, watching Gandhi til I'm charged Then writing in my book of rhymes, all the words past the margin Behold the mic I'm throbbin', 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 feet makes my cipher complete Whether cruising in a Six 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 presidents to represent me (say what?) I'm out for dead presidents to represent me [Hook] [Verse 2] 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, aimin' guns in all my baby pictures Beef with housing police, release scriptures that's maybe Hitler's Yet I'm the mild, money-gettin' style, rollin' 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, soakin' 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 flippin' coke or playin' spit, spades, and strip poker? [Hook] [Verse 3] 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, caved inside, 1,000 miles from home I need a new nigga for this black cloud to follow Cause 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 lampin' Big Willie style Check the chip-toothed smile, plus I profile wild Stash loot in fly clothes, burning dollars to light my stoge Walk the blocks with a bop, checkin' dames Plus the games people play bust the problems of the world today [Hook] [Outro] Yea aight? To everybody in Queens, the foundation (It's yours!) The world is yours To everybody uptown, yo, the world is yours (It's yours!) The world is yours To everybody in Brooklyn Y'all know the world is yours (It's yours!) The world is yours Everybody in Mount Vernon, the world is yours (It's yours!) Long Island, the world is yours (It's yours!) Staten Island, yea the world is yours (It's yours!) South Bronx, the world is yours (It's yours!) Aight