The World is Yours

Whose world is this?

The world is yours, the world is yours

It's mine, it's mine, it's mine; whose world is this?

I sip the Dom P, watching Gandhi til I'm charged

Then writing in my book of rhymes, all the words past the margin

To hold the mic I'm throbbin', mechanical movement

Understandable smooth s*it that murderers move with

The thief's theme - play me at night, they won't act right

The fiend of hip-hop has got me stuck like a crack pipe

The mind activation, react like I'm facing

Time like Pappy Mason, with pens I'm embracing

Wipe the sweat off my dome, spit the phlegm on the streets

Suede Timbs on my feet makes my cipher complete

Whether cruising in a Six cab or Montero Jeep

I can't call it; the beats make me falling asleep

I keep falling, but never falling six 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