Yeah   Dre, he a Compton-Compton O.G.   Nas, he a QB-QB true G   Do the history      Way before The Firm, like back in the day   Nas was the first New York **** rappin' with Dre   So of course I got a track to bring it back to your face   The one kid that would've been Aftermath that got away      But we still get together like every several years   To sprinkle, a little bit of Heaven for your ears   Relax sippin' Calico in Rio, stupid ****   Low-key, know G's, but it's still Gucci luggage      I love Cape Cod, and watchin' fly **** with gray eyes   Wrestle in a tub of KY to get my day by   I like to celebrate, why? 'Cause I can vision   Collages and images of my lies with no regret to hate      So every breath I take, is all about the rules   It's hard for you to breathe like you at high altitude   So crack the Patrón, it's on heathens, The God's back   Hard body, Mr. Jones never leavin'      Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders   Make that cake, cop two five fivers   Pimps and players, platinum diamonds   East to West Coast we riders      Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders   Make that cake, cop two five fivers   Pimps and players, platinum diamonds   East to West coasting, oh yeah      He a Compton-Compton O.G.   Mix that with a QB-QB true G   What you got's a **** of some different ghetto blocks   West Coast kill the tracks, East Coast gunshots      He a Compton-Compton O.G.   Mix that with a QB-QB true G   What you got's a **** of some different ghetto blocks   West Coast kill the tracks, East Coast gun      1995, eleven years from the day   I'm in the record shop with choices to make   'Illmati' on the top shelf, 'The Chronic' on the left homie   Wanna cop both but only got a twenty on me      So **** it, I stole both, spent the twenty on a dub sack   Ripped the package off 'Illmatic' and bumped that   For my **** it was too complex when Nas rhymed   I was the only Compton **** with a 'New York State of Mind'      Inside the dope house bottlin' up sherm, bangin' The Firm   Dre was king then so I waited my turn   Fast forward, now I'm makin' 'em burn   Ended my peers careers, hollered at Nas, a hard lesson was learned      So I reconciled my differences like he did with Jigga   I stopped beefin' with ****, 'cause I'm 'Ether' to ****   Comb the earth 'til there's no one left   'If I Ruled the World' I summons all you weak rap **** to death      He a Compton-Compton O.G.   Mix that with a QB-QB true G   What you got's a **** of some different ghetto blocks   West Coast kill the tracks, East Coast gunshots      Yo, the Jordans sportin'   Come off the dice game with a fortune walkin', you a walkin' coffin'   The musket I tucked it, you bluff it I bust it   You're sideways talkin', so I lay often      I wait patient, to duct tape hatin'   ****, get bucked ****   Pluck ashes of Cuban cigars, you foolin' with Nas   That's my name and I came with Rugers this time      And if I'm sane that 'Soul Plane' movie's the bomb   Word to my mom's name tattooed to my arm   You can't revolve me, embalm me, calm me or harm me   Rob me or dodge these bullets I'm bustin'      See that's malarky you yappin'   I open up the tripod to put the Gatling on, and I start clappin'   Nasty man, from baggin' grams and runnin' from cops   To a mill' on the hand, a mill' on the watch, I'm **** with Doc      Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders   Make that cake, cop two five fivers   Pimps and players, platinum diamonds   East to West Coast we riders      Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders   Make that cake, cop two five fivers   Pimps and players, platinum diamonds   East to West Coast, oh yeah