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, *** [Incomprehensible]

Professional, Pt. 3, you see it

DJ Clue, Desert Storm