The Stretch Armstrong and Bobbito Show on WKCR October 28, 1993

NasNas 

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Nas

Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones ( /nɑːˈsɪər/; born September 14, 1973), better known mononymously as Nas ( /ˈnɑːz/), is an American rapper and actor. He is also the son of jazz musician Olu Dara. Nas has released eight consecutive platinum and multi-platinum albums since 1994, four of which topped the Billboard charts upon release and has sold over thirteen-million records in the United States alone. Nas was also part of the hip hop supergroup The Firm, which released one album under Dr. Dre's record label Aftermath. Aside from rapping, Nas is also an occasional actor and has appeared in feature films such as Hype Williams' directorial debut Belly, Ticker and In Too Deep and the television show Hawaii Five-0. more »

7:47

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Aiyo, this is big Nas
I wanna give a shout-out to my man Premo, you know?
From Gang Starr, no doubt
Lil' Dap, Jeru, Melachi, the whole crew (Foundation)
Queensbridge Crew, forty busters, shorty busters
Vernon Posse, Good Fellas, you know how that go
My man Ill Will rest in peace forever, God
Tragedy, MC Shan and the whole crew, you know how that go
Marley Marl, and my man Big Bo locked up in the piece
And my man Drawz, you know
(Big Mayo chillin', loungin' at the crib, check it out now)

The, the mic is open, yo
For the Stretch Armstrong show, hosted by Bobbito

How should I start this?
How should I begin, to sin?
Grab the microphone and my rhymes'll win
Wheel of Fortune, spin, around
Check it out, I'm not a rap clown
Get smacked down by the fuckin' four pound in your dome
Hit you with the nick plate chrome
Queensbridge, that's my motherfuckin' home
Off the top of my head, yo, I'm a blunt head
Police police want a nigga dead
But I'm not goin' out like that, black
I kick the actual facts in solar
Cold as a Polar Bear, I swear, word to Will
But I'ma chill, rhymes'll kill
Niggas know the style when I freak the profile
Asiatic Child, yo
Grand Wizard on the side of me
Get on the mic and bless the M-I-C

Ayio, but I'mma pass it off to my man Six-Nine
Kick it one time

Hey, yo, Six-Nine a true to life nigga
Yo, my style is iller, iller than Halle Berry's figure
Niggas don't f*ck with the Six-Niner
Shorty, watch your mouth, I smack you back in your vagina
Here's the reefer, crack the Sunrise Tequila
Kill the Margarita, here's a 50, get some more cheeba
The ghetto trooper, so spark up the Bu-Buddha
My thoughts'll stay nasty like the underground sewers
To be the man, you gotta beat the man
It ain't nothin' startin' over here but nothin' mark my Timberlands
You want static? Let's have it
Niggas who flow like the Atlantic will sink like the Titanic
Since birth, I was thinkin' too fast
My first beef was with the doctor when he smacked me on my ass
The trigger man, I'm crazy like Sam
My skill's so ill like a white chick with a suntan

Check it out now
One for the money, two for pussy and foreign cars
Three for Alize, niggas deceased or behind bars
I rap divine, God, check the prognosis: is it real or showbiz?
My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses
Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real
A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja
Here's my basis: my razor embraces many faces
Your telephone blown, black, stitches or fat shoelaces
Peoples are petro, dramatic, automatic 44 I let blow
And back down po-po when I'm vexed, so
My pen taps the paper then my brain's blank
I see dark streets, hustlin' brothers who keep the same rank
Pumpin' for somethin', some'll prosper, some fail
Judges hangin' niggas, uncorrect bails for direct sales
My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross with nails
I reinforce the frail with lyrics that's real
Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats
But, chill! bless the microphone and say peace
So, Sudan, take the microphone in your hand
Kick the flim flam

So, check it out
I'm gonna give a strong shout-out, this is to my man Will
A little somethin' I done wrote up for my man Will
It goes somethin' like this, it's called Rock-a-bye Homeboy
No doubt, no doubt check it out

Queensbridge, when will the drama ever cease?
I'd like to say peace, Willie, and rest in peace
A cool brother who's all about justice
I still can't understand how he left us
Well he's gone and life goes on, you know
We had a crew, but one by one we go
Memories of his face that was full of joy
Rock-a, Rock-a bye, Rock-a bye homeboy
Reminiscin' with the brothers standin' on the block
Never talked a lot, never was a big shot
It's so hard to say goodbye, the sad song
And damn, I can't believe my man's gone
Diggin' back in the days when we used to laugh
Now its a memory that's haunted from the past
Poor Willy, its a shame how the ghetto got him
And word is bond - I wanna cry when I think about him
Three bullets to his back on his own block
Not a way to go, killed by the buckshot
Queensbridge, wake and up and smell the air
And stop killin' like a villain, like you don't care
Remember Willie and the times we had with joy?
Rock-a, Rock-a bye, Rock-a bye Homeboy
Rock-a, Rock-a bye, Rock-a bye Homeboy
Quensbridge style! Rock-a, Rock-a bye

My skills are ill like the prez with a plan
My brothers run from Sudan then the Ku-Klux-Klan
Like a kamikaze, Saddam Hussein then won
Feel the buns of a nun, put tricks for funds and chill (Wooo-ooooh)
I spill a verse so you can understand
I kill rappers off quicker than a motherfuckin' Mic Man
And when it comes to a battle, I stand out tall
Like the man who played the man on The White Shadow

One two, one two

What you gonna do when the flavour's comin' after you?
Grand Wizard, take my side
Grab the microphone and I'mma rock it up like

To my man Jungle, dwellin' in the jungle
Where must we go? Where must we wander?
Deep out the skies come the MC Nas
Not to surprise, but to civilize
All the dumb men wanderin' around the streets
Listenin' to a nigga rappin' on fly beats
I just kick the mad Phillie style
Get buckwild 'cause you know my style
I could run a word, kick it to a herd
Make 'em turn into a rich man, increase the plan
The master plan, yo, I'm buggin' out
'Cause the weed got me buggin', plus the Guinness Stout
Grand Wizard, yo, you my physical
Why don't you mic the make, make the microphone miserable?

It's the G, the G, the G, the G, the Wiz
You know that our culture's gone get theirs
I got my man Nasty on the side of me
My man Six-Nine, you know we're not hidin', G

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