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(feat. The Game)

[Nas]

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 nigga 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 fuckers

Low-key, know G's, but it's still Gucci luggage

I love Cape Cod, and watchin' fly bitches with grey 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 Patron, it's on heathens, The God's back

Hard body, Mr. Jones never leavin'

[Chorus #1]

Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders

Make that cake, cop two five fivers

Pimps and players, platinum diamonds

East to West Coast we riders

[Chorus #2: Nas (The Game)]

He a Compton-Compton O.G.

(Mix that with a QB-QB true G)

(What you got's) A concoction of some different ghetto blocks

(West Coast kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots

[The Game]

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