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Yeah, yeah, yo, yeah, yeah |
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For niggaz up in they mom's crib listenin' |
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To this unadulterated Nas shit wishin' it was then |
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Instead a, me on this track on this beach with palm trees |
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Drinks with umbrellas straws telling it raw |
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Jungle of concrete killers and snakes I was amongst that |
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Bundles of crack through this funnel that's black |
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I want you to vision through my telescope see the hell I wrote |
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It's Reynolds when I wrap it like a envelope package |
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And they would send the dope back then |
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Numbers, pimpin' and robbin', well, they still robbin' and pimpin' |
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But it's small change compare to hip hoppin' |
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And did I mention millions because of lip poppin' |
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Trips expensive gift shoppin' whip drivin' |
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Benz's, Jeeps, see, them and they bitch got one |
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It's shockin' you thinkin' naw it's just rhymin' |
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But all this time it's like organized crimin' |
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For instance there was a time when there was a line |
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Between streets and business but now peep how it's mixed in |
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The beef is now sickenin', everybody got paper |
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Words of power because of it the cops hate ya |
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The government watchin' all of those who thuggin' it |
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They wanna lock us up cause they kids are lovin' it |
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Not knowin' that most rappers are straight ass |
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The shots ring out, whenever we clash it's Star Wars |
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We call it Star Wars |
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What happens when the shots ring out, Star Wars |
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We call it Star Wars |
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Caviar never, I rather the Cajun blacken |
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Catfish no snails simple nigga to please |
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Met a bad bitch dimples in her cheeks |
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She remembers Busy B battles when it was peace |
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Caught myself driftin' in thought 'cause now it's different I thought |
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Niggaz was raised off the shit I record |
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Like I was brought up off that Planet Rock |
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Kurtis Blow, James Todd Smith, Shannon Scott, LaRock in the jams |
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Why would they fuck with a don, Jehovah witness |
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Him and his co-defendants, I eat 'em like Lucky Charms |
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With two percent low fat milk, five percent pro black built |
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It's nothin' mother had a motherfucker |
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I don't think about it niggaz talkin' there's a lot of gossip |
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That I'm a prophet or I can't go back to my projects |
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Can I? Does a plant grow from a plant yes |
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Do trees grow from a forest MC's y'all are clitoris |
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Y'all niggaz roll with any click that's winnin' any crew |
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Doin' whatever's trendy, even they leave me too |
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Ain't enough room in this town |
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What is beef between ghetto word spitters with crowns, Star Wars |
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'Cause this is Star Wars, shots ring out everywhere, Star Wars |
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'Cause this is Star Wars, shots ring out |
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This ain't no Oscars or MTV, or Joan Rivers fashion police |
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Not what you read in tabloid seats |
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These are MC's that live by the code, it's hard for me to spit it |
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Because the game was supposed to be sold we livid |
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Came from the streets we the voice of the youth |
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America's nightmare was given a the mic booth |
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Nike boots, leathers and jean, jewelry, cribs and cars |
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Rappers not dependin' on your nine to five jobs |
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Entertainment, this is our world this is our language |
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Different regions speakin' east and west gang shit |
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You got your positive shit like, Common Sense |
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But even he had drama with the Don Mega Cube |
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Acknowledge the words get twisted at times it's rules |
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What you think is different from the block whenever we feud |
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Fuck your pictures and your plaques your tours and autographs |
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Don't trust bitches and niggaz who tell you your all of that |
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'Cause they'll be in your enemies face sayin', it's safe |
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To run in your release party sprayin' the place |
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Or catch you when you least on point, putting your keys in the door |
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Behind you with your seeds in Kay Bee Toys store |
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Maybe the words get disrespectful now your niggaz check you |
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You gon' let that nigga play you, you know we gon' rep you |
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Next mornin' every news channel and front page |
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Headlines another rapper was slayed, this is Star Wars |
