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Nas » Money Over Bullshit
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	(Verse 1:) My niggas got scarred grills, skully hats and gats be fullies Brrat, cars peel, the east coast cartel Rats get they tail snapped and trapped It's snitches in the streets and it's snitches in rap Pure euphoria, a dose of death to all of ya Coroner choruses, some from the Bridge to Astoria Dreams of fallin' in a elevator passin' floors Suddenly stop, the doors open up to a brick wall I can smell the haters, wishful thinkers, bad luck prayers Picture ya tarot cards and bodyguards gettin' sprayed up Sabotagin' my make-up, my watches get laced up Even if they indited Jacob Forensics, paramedics, carry cowards off The frivolated shock to ya chest, try to cough They die and hit Hell from a iron I'm fly in YSL, I'm paid from this shit Got bitches high as Hell and they fuckin' like AIDS don't exist They get sent to ya hotel or made in this shit Put a barrel in the capo mouth, 'til his scalp come out You a kid, you don't live what you rap about Came poetic, too many haters to count Too much paper to count, QB bitch (Chorus x2:) Join me in war, many will live, many will mourn Money over bullshit, pistols over brawlin' Afraid not of none of you cowards but of my own strength Afraid not of none of you cowards but of my own strength (Verse 2:) Got seven candles lit, black wallpaper black carpet Thinkin' 'bout which nigga to target You kill a nigga today, he lives forever So I plotted out smarter, there'll be no martyrs Black tech on the table, mag four-four Black negligee on my bitch, she's at the door Black fish eggs nigga, that's the caviar You niggas is fish made, y'all niggas is fifth grade niggas It's fifty ways to die said the general I give you the top five, you will not survive Rule 1 cocksucker keep my name from ya tongue Rule 2 thought you knew don't fuck wit' God's Son Rule 3, see, matter fact I'll just wait If y'all reach top five then I'mma eat y'all alive Each one of you guys that claim hip-hop is still alive Like y'all ain't in agreement wit' Nas I said it's dead muthafucka, it's dead bitch (Chorus x2) (Verse 3:) From crack pushers to 'Lac pushers, and ambushers And morticians to fortresses, case dismisses Laced in riches, cake ridiculous, from nickel and dimin' To trickin' them diamonds, Vegas, places in Switzerland From nine blast to the auto, have to blast mine They blast mine, black nine, you flatline, my cash climb Buy rare art, antique pieces, Mona Lisas Own, no leases, five star restaurant eaters Don't forget who ya peeps is, 'pose to dyin' wit' you Sip that good wine wit' you, only if they grind wit' you Or slang for ya, seen niggas live, laugh, party and Die on that very same corner Pretty girls glance at us, status unconceivable Private planes landed out in ???, weed I twirl Once even gave me a phobia, that I'll be in the spot Trapped like a Madam Zenobias wit' this kid eyein' my Rolly, yo (Chorus x2) There it is... QB bitch.... yeah... QB bitch... Yeah... yeah... QB bitch...
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