Too Hot
[Intro: DJ scratching]
"N***as bit off Nas sh*t"
"Admit it, you bit it"
"N***as bit off Nas sh*t, n***as, n***as, bit off, Nas sh*t"
"Admit if, you bit it, bit it"

[Verse 1 - 50 Cent]
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 n***as fold
The sh*t I kick f**k with n***as 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, 19.5 a ki
I stay catching a stunt, frontin' in somethin' mean
And I'll clap any n***a for the right amount of cream
Run up on them all with the same problem solver
Beat up a**, tape on the handle, trey eight revolver. What!

Projects too hot, n***as better hope we never hit rock
Cause then we gonna run up in your spot
Screamin' get the f**k on the floor, give us the raw

[Verse 2 - Nature]
Aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo
I'm like Sugar Shane Mosley, it ain't no beef
You're staring, a ticket holder that sits 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 f**k with the tightest, I stick n***as
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 sh*t
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 n***a

[Hook - Last line cut off]
"N***as bit off Nas" - Ghostface Killah
"Admit it, you bit it" - G. Dep
"Tell these n***as somethin' God" - Ghostface Killah

[Verse 3 - Nas]
What, yo
I disturb n***as 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 n***a 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 d**k when I'm pimpin'
Impotent you n***as 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 n***as imitate what I started, let's go

[Intro - Once]