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