Halftime

Check me out y'all

Nasty Nas in your area

About to cause mass hysteria

Before I 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 a 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, I'll pull a number like a pager

Cause I'm an 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'mma 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 halftime

This is how it feel, check it out, how it feel

It's like that, you know it's like that

I got it hemmed, now you never get the mic back

When I attack, there 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 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 sparkin'

But I was too scared to grab the mics in the parks and

Kick my little raps cause I thought nigga wouldn't understand

And now in every jam I'm the fuckin' 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

It's halftime

This is how it feel, check it out, how it feel

I got it going on, even flip a morning song

Every afternoon, I kick half the tune

And in the darkness, I'm heartless like when the NARC's hit

Word to Marcus Garvey: I hardly sparked it

Cause when I blast the herb, that's my word

I be slayin' them fast, doing this that and the third

But chill, pass the 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 with the .44

And biters can't come near

And yo: "go to hell" to the foul cop who 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