[Intro: Nas]
Dre, he a Compton-Compton O.G
Nas, he a QB-QB true G
Do the history

[Verse 1: Nas]
Way before The Firm, like back in the day
Nas was the first New York n***a rappin' with Dre
So of course I got a track, to bring it back to your face
The one kid that would've been Aftermath that got away
But we still get together, like, every several years
To sprinkle a little bit of Heaven for your ears
Relax, sippin' Cliquot in Rio, stupid fuckers
Low-key, no G's, but it's still Gucci luggage
I love Cape Cod, and watching fly bitches with gray eyes
Wrestle in a tub of KY to get my day by
I like to celebrate – why? 'Cause I can vision
Collages and images–of my lies, with no regret to hate
So every breath I take, is all about the rules
It's hard for you to breathe, like you at high altitude
So crack the Patrón, it's on, heathens
The God's back, hard body, Mr. Jones never leavin'

[Chorus: Marsha Ambrosius]
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders
Make that cake, cop two five fivers
Pimps and players, platinum diamonds
East to West Coast, we riders
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders
Make that cake, cop two five fivers
Pimps and players, platinum diamonds
East to West Coastin' O.G
[Bridge: Nas & The Game]
He a Compton-Compton O.G
Mix that with a QB-QB true G, what you got's
A concoction of some different ghetto blocks
West Coast kill the tracks, East Coast gunshots
He a Compton-Compton O.G
Mix that with a QB-QB true G, what you got's
A concoction of some different ghetto blocks
West Coast kill the tracks, East Coast gun— {*shot*}

[Verse 2: The Game]
1995, eleven years from the day
I'm in the record shop, with choices to make
'Illmatic' on the top shelf, 'The Chronic' on the left, homie
Wanna cop both, but only got a 20 on me
So fuck it, I stole both, spent the 20 on a dub sack
Ripped the package off 'Illmatic' and bumped that
For my n***as, it was too complex when Nas rhymed
I was the only Compton n***a with a "New York State of Mind"
Inside the dope house, bottlin' up sherm, bangin' The Firm
Dre was king then, so I waited my turn
Fast forward, now I'm making 'em burn
Ended my peers' careers
Hollered at Nas, a hard lesson was learned
So I reconciled my differences, like he did with Jigga
I stopped beefin' with n***as, ‘cause I'm "Ether" to n***as
Comb the Earth, 'til there's no one left
"If I Ruled The World," I'd summons all you weak rap n***as to death
[Bridge: Nas & The Game]
He a Compton-Compton OG
Mix that with a QB-QB true G, what you got's
A concoction of some different ghetto blocks
West Coast kill the tracks East Coast gunshots

[Verse 3: Nas]
Yo, the Jordans sportin', come off the dice game
With a fortune walkin', you a walking coffin'
The musket, I tucked it
You bluff it, I bust it
You're sideways talking, so I lay often
I wait patient, to duct tape hatin'
Fuck ass n***as, get bucked ass n***as
Pluck ashes of Cuban cigars, you foolin' with Nas
That's my name, and I came with Rugers this time
And if I'm sane, that Soul Plane movie's the bomb
Word to my mom's name tattooed to my arm
You can't revolve me, embalm me, calm me, or harm me
Rob me, or dodge these bullets I'm busting
See, that's malarky you yappin'
I open up the tripod to put the Gatling on, and I start clappin'
Nasty man, from bagging grams and runnin' from cops
To a mill' on the hand, a mill' on the watch, I'm fuckin' with Doc

[Chorus: Marsha Ambrosius]
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders
Make that cake, cop two five fivers
Pimps and players, platinum diamonds
East to West Coast, we riders
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders
Make that cake, cop two five fivers
Pimps and players, platinum diamonds
East to West Coastin' O.G