Before a blunt, I take out my fronts
Then I start to front, matter of fact,
I be on a manhunt
You couldn't catch me in the streets
without ton of reefer
That's like Malcolm X
catching the Jungle Fever
King poetic, too much flavor, I'm major
Atlanta ain't Brave-r,
pull a number like a pager
'Cause I'm a ace when I face the bass
40 side is the place that is giving me grace
Now wait, another dose
and you might be dead
And I'm a Nike head,
I wear chains that excite the feds
And ain't a damn thing gonna change
I'm a performer strange,
so the mic warmer was born to gain
Nas, why did you do it?
You know you got the mad fat fluid
when you rhyme, it's halftime
It's like that, you know it's like that
I got it hemmed,
now you never get the mic back
When I attack,
ain't an army that could strike back
So I react never calmly on a hype track
I set it off with my own rhyme
'Cause I'm as ill as a convict
who kills for phone time
I'm max like cassettes, I flex like sex
In your stereo sets, Nas'll Nas'll catch wreck
I used to hustle, now all I do is relax and strive
When I was young,
I was a fan of the Jackson 5
I drop jewels, wear jewels,
hope to never run it
With more kicks than a baby
in a mother's stomach
Nasty Nas has to rise 'cause I'm wise
This is exercise 'til the microphone dies
Back in '83, I was an MC sparking
But I was too scared
to grab the mic's in the parks
And kick my little raps
'cause I thought niggas wouldn't understand
And now in every jam, I'm the fucking man
I rap in front of more niggas
than in the slave ships
I used to watch CHiPs, now I load Glock clips
I got to have it, I miss Mr. Magic
Versatile, my style switches like a faggot
But not bisexual, I'm an intellectual
Of rap, I'm a professional
and that's no question, yo
These are the lyrics of the man,
you can't near it, understand
'Cause in the streets,
I'm well known like the number man
Am I in place with the bass and format?
Explore rap and tell me Nas ain't all that
And next time I rhyme,
I be foul whenever I freestyle
I see trial, niggas say I'm wild
I hate a rhyme biter's rhyme
Stay tuned, Nas soon,
the real rap comes at halftime
I got it going on, even flip a morning song
Every afternoon, I kick half the tune
And in the darkness, I'm heartless
when the narcs hit
Word to Marcus Garvey, I hardly sparked it
'Cause when I blast the herb, that's my word
I be slaying 'em fast,
doing this, that in the third
But chill, pass to Andre and let's slay
I bag bitches up at John Jay
and hit a matinee
Putting hits on 5- 0
'Cause when it's my time to go,
I wait for God wit the fo-fo
And biters can't come near
And yo, go to hell
to the foul cop shot Garcia
I won't plant seeds,
don't need an extra mouth I can't feed
That's extra Phillie change,
more cash for damp weed
This goes out to Manhattan
the Island of Staten
Brooklyn and Queens is living fat
And the Boogie Down,
enough props, enough clout
Ill will, rest in peace, yo, I'm out