Nas - H to the OMO (Freestyle Jay-Z Diss) lyrics

Ma, I'm sorry who the f** I AM, I can't trust my fans Out of luck, no constructive plans My friends stay powdered up, I'm so drunk, can't stand You said if I would sober up, I'd be a powerful man Turned out the street life, you prayed I wouldn't But every church in the world can't save our children I stayed out late, you heard shots, thought it would be Your oldest son on the ground dead, but fortunately Them bullets had some other names on it, a brother was blind I hit the L, then we yell out, "It wasn't my time!" I loaded up shells, one by one, you smelled blunt from my room door Little Nasir was at war And little did I care what you saw Crew deep with a few heat, now it's time we settle the score But in the projects, I visit Muhammad, in linen garments Preaching Man, Woman, and Child, the living Prophet And I'm similar, Nasir Bin Olu Dara Visqu Allah, fist full of dollars in the dice game God The Ice King, God, the Black Christ, elegant stance Clothes fit me like a crime boss, the medicine man I see the world collapsing, young pregnancies Young girls are unfastening they Sasoon jeans, no prophylactic All this fashion and fly j**elry, now makes my eyes teary N.Y. City, grab a hold and ride with me Rip the Freeway, shoot through Memphis with money bags Stop in Philly, order cheese steaks and eat Beans fast And bring it back up top, remove the fake king of New York You show off, I count off when you sample my voice I rule you, before, you used to rap like the Fu-Schnickens Nas designed your Blueprint, who you kidding? Is he H to the izzo, M to the izzo? For shizzle you phony, the rapper version of Sisqo And that's for certain, you cloned me, your wack clothes line I'd rather Sean John, bore me with your fake coke rhymes And those times, they never took place, you liar Un was your first court case, you had no priors You master fabricated stories of streets and sound slick Have you surrounded, you and them f*ggot you down with While they riding NAS, trying to boost their careers Corny as Cormega, all you Hip-Hop queers Since Illmatic, It Was Written: I Am... Nastradamus That's the answers to the puzzle I gave you, now here's a promise My next few albums, instead of projects They'll be a difficult test inside the cover for the mind's optics Come in my hood, but bring the guns with you, it's dark Headed through Brooklyn, Queens, Harlem, Staten, and Bronx Headed through Compton, Oaktown, South Central, and Watts New Orleans, Mississippi, Chi-town, every block I'm trying to have my positive ways, I put my rhymes on page Did crimes and headline on stage I signed a contract, so here it is, you have it Streets Disciple, I'm Stillmatic