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Nas has adopted a new tradition of dissing at least one arch-nemesis within the first 3 minutes of his albums. On Hip-Hop Is Dead‘s introductory track, “Money of Bullsh*t,” he went at Jim Jones with “Put a barrel in the Capo mouth.” Now, he’s taking aim at fellow Queens MC, 50 Cent on “Queens Get the Money,” which happens to be Untitiled‘s opening track.
There must be an inside joke being passed around within the anti-Boo Boo circle of MCs. Common clearly dissed 50 and G-Unit on his last album’s intro. Now, Nas is doing the same exact thing, even borrowing some of Com’s words. Peep the full lyrics and decide for yourself if it’s a shot or not.
Ayo,
Queens get the money, n*ggas still screaming, paper chasing
While presidential candidates is planning wars with other nations over steak with Masons
Pregnant teens give birth to intelligent gangsters, they daddies faceless
Play this, by ya stomach, let my words massage it and rub it
I’ll be his daddy if there’s nobody there to love it
Tell him his name Nasir. Tell him how he got here
Momma was just having fun with someone above her years
N*ggas is still hatin’
Talking that “Nas done fell off with rhymin’, he rather floss with diamonds”
They pray, “Please God, let him spit that uzi and the army linen,
That shorty doo-wop rolling oo-whops in the park reclining”
Take 27 emcees, put them in a line and they out of alignment
My assignments since he said retirement
Hiding behind 8 Mile and The Chronic
Get rich but dies rhymin, this is high science
Now add 23 more for queens to be more, I’m over they heads
Like a bulimic on a sea-saw
Now that’s 50 porch monkeys ate up at the same time
Nasdaq, y’all gon’ bow holmes, this is Dow Jones
80 cal. chrome, needed time alone to zone
The mac left his iPhone and his nine at home
My queen used her “Milkshake” to bring ya’ll to my slaughterhouses
I do this for the group home kids and boarding houses
This that n*gga sh*t that’s on the album
For them n*ggas inside the chalk lining, 40 houses
Bring back Arsenio,
Hip-hop was aborted, so Nas breathes life back into the embryo
Let us make man in our image, spit it,
I’m Huey P. and Louie V. at the eulogy throwing Molotovs for Emmett
You ain’t as hot as I is
All of these false prophets is not messiahs
You don’t know how high the sky is
The square mileage of earth or what pi is >>>> (WTF, Nas?)
I’m the shaky hand that touched George Foreman in Zaire
The same hand that punched down devils that brought down the towers
Related Dis
Common: “You was better as a drug dealer”
