Conflicted lyrics

[Chorus: Nas & Snoop Dogg]
If God for me, who could be against me?
I guess all them n*ggas that's against me
They the ones stirrin' up the conflict
Then try to make it out like I'm conflicted
b*tches
East Coast n*ggas in six-fours hittin' switches (sh*t)
It's not a conflict of interest
Cuh, them n*ggas with the business
West Coast n*ggas rockin' them Timberlands deep up in them trenches
It's no difference

[Verse 1: Snoop Dogg]
Neither one play games when swingin' for them fences
We want the finer things, the sh*t that's еxpensive
The sh*t that hit 'еm either close range or at a distance
If God for me, n*gga, why bother?
I got my game from the Godfather (Woof)
Top of the food chain, rock bottom
And handled my business when it was my problem
G sh*t, n*gga flossin' with a gold chain
I got my Turkish rope with matchin' gold fangs
Bomber jacker in the winter, it's a cold game
I met some East Coast n*ggas up in Spokane (What up?)
Some of the realest n*ggas in this dope game
I got my curly top, lookin' like Special Ed
Clean fade on the side, bumpin' that redhead
Clean tags when I ride, duckin' the fed-feds
East Coast n*ggas, they get that bread-bread
You f*ck with them n*ggas, you end up dead-dead
Them West Coast n*ggas, they leave that lead spread
And now you got bullets all in your dread head
[Chorus: Nas & Snoop Dogg]
If God for me, who could be against me?
I guess all them n*ggas that's against me
They the ones stirrin' up the conflict
Then try to make it out like I'm conflicted
b*tches
Still tryna f*ck the riches
East Coast n*ggas in six-fours hittin' switches (sh*t)
It's not a conflict of interest
Cuh, them n*ggas with the business
West Coast n*ggas rockin' them Timberlands deep up in them trenches
It's no difference

[Verse 2: Snoop Dogg]
Fourth and inches
I'm finna hit a lick and handle business
I got a down b*tch, she real vicious
Rock-a-bye baby, no witness
This is not even a conflict
You n*ggas on nonsense
n*ggas die the same way in Brooklyn and Compton
But n*ggas with that gang-gang, them n*ggas make a profit
n*ggas on top, n*ggas stay poppin'
Look, see, I was the high school Slick Rick, I was stylin'
Fat gold chain with an African medallion
Hip-hop connoisseur and Rollin' 20 Crippin'
Rap game real tight, freestyle was magnificent
All about the clout and all about my dividends
Them older n*ggas couldn't tell me different
I need a 'round the way girl to let me stick it in
Showtime at the Apollo
I'm drinking OE up out the bottle
Take two swigs and pour out a little liquor for my n*ggas who won't live to see tomorrow
[Chorus: Nas]
If God for me, who could be against me?
I guess all them n*ggas that's against me
They the ones stirrin' up the conflict
Then try to make it out like I'm conflicted