The World Is Yours
Nas Pete Rock Lyrics

Whose world is this?
Who has the power in this world?

(The world is yours, the world is yours)
The world belongs to you.

It's mine, it's mine, it's mine
I have the power in this world, too.

I sip the Dom P, watching "Gandhi" 'til I'm charged
I relax by drinking and watching movies until I feel energized.

Then writing in my book of rhymes, all the words past the margin
I write so much that the words go beyond the border of the paper.

To hold the mic I'm throbbin', mechanical movement
I feel excitement and my movements become robotic when I hold the microphone.

Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with
My music is smooth and relatable, even to those with violent tendencies.

The thief's theme: play me at night, they won't act right
My music has criminal themes and makes people act unruly when played at night.

The fiend of hip-hop has got me stuck like a crack pipe
I am addicted to hip-hop like a drug addict is to crack.

The mind activation, react like I'm facin' time like "Pappy" Mason, with pens I'm embracin'
When I write, my mind is active and I feel like I'm facing jail time like Pappy Mason. But using my pen is my way of embracing my talent and changing my life.

Wipe the sweat off my dome, spit the phlegm on the streets Suede Timb's on my feets makes my cipher complete
I wipe the sweat off my head and spit on the streets. Wearing Timberland boots completes my rap outfit.

Whether crusing in a Sikh's cab, or Montero Jeep I can't call it, the beats make me falling asleep
Whether I'm in a taxi or a car, I don't know, but the music beats make me fall asleep.

I keep falling, but never falling 6 feet deep I'm out for presidents to represent me (Say what?) I'm out for presidents to represent me (Say what?) I'm out for dead presidents to represent me
I keep making mistakes, but I never die. I'm here to make money and want President faces on my money.

To my man Ill Will, God bless your life (It's yours!) To my peoples throughout Queens, God bless your life
I give my blessings to my friend Ill Will and everyone in my hometown of Queens.

I trip, we box up crazy bitches Aiming guns at all my baby pictures Beef with housing police, release scriptures that's maybe Hitler's
I have problems with women and sometimes feel violent. The police department and their laws are problematic, so I write provocative words that may resemble Hitler's.

Yet I'm the mild, money-getting style, rolling foul The versatile, honey-sticking wild golden child
I have a unique and distinct style of rapping that sometimes includes illegal activity. I am versatile, smooth, and talented like a golden child.

Dwelling in the Rotten Apple, you get tackled Or caught by the devil's lasso, shit is a hassle There's no days, for broke days we sell it: smoke pays
Living in the tough city of New York can lead to trouble or negative influences. We deal with stressful and difficult situations all the time, and sometimes the only way to make money is through selling drugs.

While all the old folks pray to Jesus, soaking their sins in trays Of holy water. Odds against Nas are slaughter
Older people pray to Jesus and attempt to wash away their sins in holy water. The odds of me succeeding in life are not in my favor.

Thinking a word best describing my life to name my daughter My strength, my son, the star, will be my resurrection Born in correction. All the wrong shit I did, he'll lead a right direction
I'm trying to think of a word that describes my life, so I can name my daughter. My son will be my strength and guiding light for the future. He was born while I was in jail, so he represents a correction in my past mistakes.

"How you living?" Large, a broker charge - cards are mediocre You flipping coke or playing spit spades and strip poker?
People ask me how I'm living. I have a lot of money, but I don't spend much. Are you selling drugs or playing games for money?

I'm the young city bandit, hold myself down single-handed For murder raps, I kick my thoughts alone, get remanded
I'm the young gangster who takes care of myself. My lyrics are so violent that I get arrested and put in jail.

Born alone, die alone, no crew to keep my crown or throne I'm deep by sound alone, caved inside, 1,000 miles from home
I was born alone and will die alone. I don't need anyone to support or validate me. My music speaks for itself. Despite my fame, I feel isolated and far away from my roots and home.

I need a new nigga for this black cloud to follow Cause while it's over me it's too dark to see tomorrow
I need someone new to follow, because the current person in my life is causing me stress and darkness. I need a change to see a brighter future.

Trying to maintain, I flip, fill the clip to the tip Picturing my peeps, now the income make my heartbeat skip
I'm trying to keep my cool, but it's hard. I fill my gun with bullets and imagine my loved ones. Making money increases my heart rate with excitement.

And I'm amped up, they locked the champ up, even my brain's in handcuffs Headed for Indiana, stabbing women like the Phantom The crew is lamping, Big Willie-style Check the chip-toothed smile, plus I profile wild
I'm hyped up and full of energy, but they have locked me up like a champion fighter. Even my mind feels trapped. I'm heading to Indiana and stabbing women like a killer. My crew is celebrating like rich kids. I have a messed up tooth and a wild personality.

Stash through the flock wools, burning dollars to light my stove Walk the blocks with a bop, checking dames, plus the games People play, bust the problems of the world today
I stash my money in my clothes and use dollar bills to light my stove. I walk confidently and check out women while I solve the problems of the world through my music.