Nas, 50 Cent, Nature - Too Hot lyrics

"Niggas bit off Nas shit"
"Admit it, you bit it"
"Niggas bit off Nas shit
Niggas, niggas, bit off, nas shit"
"Admit if, you bit it, bit it"

You can be a ridah and ride
Or a coward and hide
Either way you go against me
You still gon die
I got four macs, a few nines
I'm ready for beef
You wanna talk, it ain't about money
Then let it be brief
I need a drop for when it's a hot
A Hummer for when it's cold
An ill attorney's in my corner
When these fake niggas fold
The shit I kick fuck with niggas mentally
Makes them wanna mention me
And see me doing a quarter
Century in the penitentiary
Nastradamus predicted 50's the future
That's a fact money
I run up on your workers with the mac
Like where that pack money
I'm a tell ya'll what Papi told me
I got what you need, 195 a ki
I stay catching a stunt
Frontin' in somethin' mean
And I'll clap any nigga for
The right amount of cream
Run up on them all with
The same problem solver
Beat up ass, tape on the handle
Trey eight revolver what!

The projects too hot
Niggas better hope we never hit rock
Cause then we gonna run up in your spot
Screamin' get the fuck on the floor
Give us the raw

Aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo
I'm like Sugar Shane Mosley, it ain't no beef
You're staring
A ticket holder that sit's in row three
Next to Ron Artest and Kobe
Yo I woulda went pro too
Then I let them phillies slow me
I'm like a black man's asthma, seeking a pump
Breathin' deeper when I'm creeping up
Ya'll need to fuck with the tightest
I stick niggas
Encephalitis leavin' whole families
In silence my virus is obvious
Past on to most rap fiends
Uncured, ain't no vaccine
Last seen at the automatic teller machine
Maxing out
Or in the studio booth, blacking out
It's Con Air style, real twisted
I disappear on some Blair Witch shit
Comin' back I'm rich kid either or
You can't stop me with my feet in the door
Or walk away from the street or the morgue
Play your part nigga

"Niggas bit off Nas" - Ghostface Killah
"Admit it, you bit it" - G dep
"Tell these niggas somethin' God"
- Ghostface Killah

What, yo i disturb niggas and white boys
With five pointed stars
Tatted on they arms, pimp your moms
Like I'm Magic Don Juan
From Queens to Hong Kong, weed in the bong
We smoke that
Leave our minks on the coat rack
Dough stacks those that plot on me
Nine times outta ten the nine is on me
Feds search the God
But nothin' they find on me
When I rap don't wait to clap applaud sooner
Unless you hate a nigga like George Bush Jr
I bring war quick to you
Porsche maneuvers through the city
Like New York sewers
Stinkin' up the air, Central Park
Horse manure
Rims is 22 inches, Benz suspensions
22 inch dick when I'm pimpin'
Impotent you niggas get me sick
Wanna be soundin' like
You knowin' my arithmetic
But we don't sound alike
50 Cent with Braveheart-ed
We ride to the grave depart us
You fake niggas imitate what I started
Let's go