The World Is Yours (Live at Webster Hall, NYC - Dec. 17, 2002)

(It's yours) yeah, yeah, c'mon

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?

(It's yours) c'mon y'all, turn these mics up

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

The world is yours, the world is yours

The world is mine, it's mine, it's mine

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

Writin' in my book of rhymes, all the words past the margin

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

Understandable smooth shit 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 facin'

Time like Pappy Mason, with pens I'm embracin'

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

Air on my feet make my cipher complete

Whether cruisin' in a Sikh's cab or Montero Jeep

I can't call it, the beats make me fallin' asleep

I keep fallin', but never fallin' six feet deep

I'm out for presidents to represent me (say what?)

I'm out for presidents to represent me (say what?)

Dead fuckin' presidents (let's go back, y'all)