Nas - Money Over Bullshit lyrics

My niggas got scarred grills
Skully hats and gats be fullies
Brrrat! Cars peel, the East Coast cartel
Rats get their tails snapped and trapped
The snitches in the streets and
The snitches who rap
Pure euphoria, a dose of death to all of you
Coroner choruses sung from The
Bridge to Astoria
Dreams of falling in the elevator
Passing floors suddenly stop
The doors open up to a brick wall
I can smell the haters, wishful thinkers
Bad-luck prayers
Picture your tarot cards and
Bodyguards getting sprayed up
Sabotaging my makeup, my watches get laced up
Even if they indicted Jacob
Forensics, paramedics, carry cowards off
Defibrillators shock to your chest
Try to cough
They die and hit Hell from an iron
I'm fly in YSL, I'm paid from this shit
Got bitches high as hell
And they fucking like AIDS don't exist
They get sent to your hotel
I'm made in this shit
Put a barrel in a capo mouth
'til his scalp come out
You a kid, you don't live what you rap about
King poetic, too many haters to count
Too much paper to count (QB, bitch)

Join me in war, many will live
Many will mourn (Mourn)
Money over bullshit, pistols over brawn
Afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength
Afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength
Join me in war, many will live
Many will mourn (My own strength
Nigga! That's what I'm afraid of)
Money over bullshit, pistols over brawn
(Ha ha ha) afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength
Afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength

Got seven candles lit, black wallpaper
Black carpet
Thinking about which nigga to target
You kill a nigga today, he lives forever
So I plotted out smarter
There'll be no martyrs
Black TEC on the table, Mag' four-four
Black negligée on my bitch, she's at the door
Black fish eggs, nigga, that's the caviar
You niggas fish made, y'all
Niggas is fifth grade, niggas
It's fifty ways to dissect the General
If I give ya the top five
You will not survive rule 1: Cocksucker
Keep my name from your tongue
Rule 2: Thought you knew don't
Fuck with God's Son
Rule 3: See, matter fact, I just wait
If y'all reach top five
Then I'ma eat y'all alive
Each one of ya guys that
Claim hip-hop is still alive
Like y'all ain't in agreement with Nas
I said it's dead motherfucker, it's dead
Bitch

Join me in war, many will live
Many will mourn (It's dead, bitch)
Money Over Bullshit, pistols over brawn
Afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength
Afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength
(My own strength nigga, that's
What I'm scared of, ha ha)
Join me in war, many will live
Many will mourn
Money Over Bullshit, pistols over brawn
Afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength
Afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength

From crack pushers to Lac'
Pushers and ambushers
And morticians to fortresses, case-dismisses
Laced in riches, cake ridiculous
From nickel and dimin' to
Trickin' them diamonds
Vegas, places in Switzerland
From 9 blastin' to I don't have to blast mine
They blast mine, black 9, you flatline
My cash climb
Buy rare art, antique pieces, Mona Lisa's
Own no leases
Five-star restaurant eaters don't forget
Who your peeps is 'Sposed to dine with you
Sip that good wine with you
Only if they grind with you or slang for ya
Seen niggas live, laugh
Party and die in that very same corner
Pretty girls glance at us
Status unconceivable
Private planes landed out in Teterboro
Weed I twirl once even gave me a phobia
That I be in a spot trapped like Madame
Zenobia's with this kid eyein' my Rollie up

Join me in war, many will live
Many will mourn
Money Over Bullshit, pistols over brawn
Afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength
Afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength
(My own strength nigga, that's
What I'm scared of, ha ha)
Join me in war, many will live
Many will mourn
Money Over Bullshit, pistols over brawn
Afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength
Afraid not of none of you cowards
But of my own strength

There it is, QB, bitch! yeah
QB, bitch! yeah, yeah… QB, bitch!