Yeah, DJ Clue, Desert Storm New Nas, it's called War Squinted-eye gangsta, live in a skyscraper Platinum Patron drinker, stackin' that grown paper God pushed me out His *** The Devil swallowed me up, I burnt a hole in his guts Fell down into a Louis Vuitton truck with stash boxes And *** in it sayin' blast Nas *** Drove down harm's way, puffin' that bombay QB thug tattoo on my arm say Names of my fam, so I'ma read you a scripture And commandments to get you richer Bandannas, hammers, MAC's and nina's With the mismatched Pumas like Shan in Queensbridge All white shell toes, that's that Queens thing Brightland, ice wine, call that weed sling Know where G slang And the *** with bomb *** that slurp on me and my comrades Got a new contract, come on, black *** y'all just gettin' up on, I'm beyond that No time for crumbs, I really don't see them They just started livin', just started havin' threesomes Just started havin' girls who like them That's why I got married 'cause my world ain't like them So why they keep tellin' those stories? ***, y'all square, ***, this is my year, *** Professional, Pt. 3, you see it DJ Clue, Desert Storm