Through the lights cameras and action, glamour glitters and gold/
I unfold the scroll, plant seeds to stampede the globe/
When I'm deceased, by then the beast arise like yeast/
to conquer peace leaving savages to roam in the streets/
Live on the run, police paying me to give in my gun/
Trick my Wisdom, with the system that imprisoned my son/
Smoke a gold leaf I hold heat, nonchalantly/
I'm grungy, but things I do is real it never haunts me/
while, funny style niggaz roll in the pile/
Rooster heads profile on a bus to Riker's Isle/
Holdin weed inside they pussy with they minds on the pretty things in life/
, props is a true thug's wife/
It's like a cycle, niggaz come home, some'll go in/
Do a bullet, come back, do the same shit again/
From the womb to the tomb, presume the unpredictable/
Guns salute life, rapidly, that's the ritual/
Nas-Verbal Intercourse