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(Right..) (Right..) |
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Check me out y'all, Nasty Nas in your area |
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About to cause mass hysteria |
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Before a blunt, I take out my fronts |
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Then I start to front, matter of fact, I be on a manhunt |
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You couldn't catch me in the streets without a ton of reefer |
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That's like Malcolm X, catchin the Jungle Fever |
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King poetic, too much flavor, I'm major |
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Atlanta ain't Brave-r, I'll pull a number like a pager |
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Cause I'm am ace when I face the bass |
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40-side is the place that is giving me grace |
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Now wait, another dose and you might be dead |
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And I'm a Nike head, I wear chains that excite the feds |
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And ain't a damn thing gonna change |
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I'ma performer (?) show the mic warmer was born to gain |
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Nas, why did you do it? |
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You know you got the mad fat fluid when you rhyme, it's halftime |
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(Right..) It's halftime |
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(Right..) Aiyyo it's halftime |
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(Right..) It's halftime |
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(Right..) Yeah, it's about halftime |
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This is how it feel, check it out, how it feel |
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It's like that, you know it's like that |
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I got it hemmed, now you never get the mic back |
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When I attack, there ain't an army that could strike back |
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So I react never calmly on a hype track |
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I set it off with my own rhyme |
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Cause I'm as ill as a convict who kills for phone time |
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I'm max like cassettes, I flex like sex |
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In your stereo sets, Nas will catch wreck |
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I used to hustle, now all I do is relax and strive |
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When I was young, I was a fan of the Jackson 5 |
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I drop jewels, wear jewels, hope to never run it |
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With more kicks than a baby in a mother's stomach |
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Nasty Nas has to rise cause I'm wise |
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This is exercise 'til the microphone dies |
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Back in eighty-three I was an MC sparking |
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But I was too scared to grab the mic's in the park and |
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Kick my little raps cause I thought ******z wouldn't understand |
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And now in every jam I'm the ****** man |
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I rap in front of more ******z than in the slave *******ps |
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I used to watch C.H.I.P.S., now I load glock clips |
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I got to have it, I miss Mr. Magic |
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Versatile, my style switches like a ****** |
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But not bisexual, I'm an intellectual |
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Of rap, I'm a professional and that's no question, yo |
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These are the lyrics of the man, you can't near it, understand |
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Cuz in the streets, I'm well known like the number man |
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In my place wit the bass and format |
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Explore rap, and tell me Nas ain't all that |
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And next time I rhyme, I be foul |
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Whenever I freestyle I see trial ******z say I'm wow |
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I hate a rhymebiter's rhyme |
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Stay tuned, Nas, soon the real rap comes at halftime |
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(Right..) It's halftime |
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(Right..) Exhale, check it it's halftime |
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(Right..) It's halftime |
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(Right..) It's real in the field |
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Word life, check it |
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I got it goin on, even flip 'em on this song |
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Every afternoon, I kick half the tune |
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And in the darkness, I'm heartless like when the NARCs hit |
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Word to Marcus Garvey I hardly sparked it |
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Cause when I blast the herb, that's my word |
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I be slayin them fast, doing this that and the third |
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But chill, past to Andre, and let's slay |
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I bag ******* up at John Jay, and hit a matinee |
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Puttin hits on 5-0 |
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Csudr when it's my time to go, I wait for God wit the fo'-fo' |
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And biters can't come near |
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And yo, go to hell to the foul cop who shot Garcia |
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I won't plant seeds, don't need an extra mouth I can't feed |
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That's extra Phillie change, more cash for that ****** |
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This goes out to Manhattan, the island of Staten |
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Brooklyn and Queens is livin fat and |
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The Boogie Down, enough props, enough clout |
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Ill Will, rest in peace, yo, I'm out |
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(Right..) It's still halftime |
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(Right..) To the Queen******ridge crew |
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To the Queen******ridge crew, you know it's halftime |
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(Right..) Ninety-two, it's halftime |
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(Right..) Yo police, police man, yo let's get ghost |
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Halftime.. |
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