Ridiculous flow from nas here
Call the chopper phone, heliport in my home
Quincy Jones posters
Wake up, guns under my pillow, I can't talk around chauffeurs
Shit is better than a novel, autobiographic
Spit it on tracks, it becomes classic
Start some, make my heart pump, spark one, I'm God son
Nastradamus, last one to blast one when the NARC's come
Know how to leave anything in thirty seconds
When you feel the heat, comin and flee with the murder weapon
I'll release one, shot you deceased, learn your lesson
Your flesh turn to maggots, bastards, you past it
Cremate your flesh to ashes
You don't need a suit, no wake, no funeral, and no casket