@@brynelanham3205 I was his personal ghostwriter, I wont argue. You don't have to believe me, but it's true believe it or not. There's unlimited articles. All he does is say that his GHOSTWRITER was his FRIEND!
@@SirRyan31according to Premo, Nas just went and did it. It's why he says "I don't know how to start this", because he had the rhyme written, but hadn't run it through on the beat yet.
Feels like you're involved in a murder mystery. You can feel the air coming up from the sewers, the smell of death in the air. One of the most menacing beats of all time.
I did monitors for Premier at a show in Colorado. Very cool guy, he was very professional and very particular about how likes his stage set up and I was happy to oblige because he was so polite about it. Pete Rock was there but didn't speak a word, Premier definitely ran the show.
@@mcb3167 Lol😂😂 let me help you Holy shit is a duck you better duck while i shoot my shot i always wish my name was Chuck unfortunetly i m fat but i smack feel like i`m Shaq 😂😂😂
***** Go on runnin your mouth, You want a change of pace then, I'll lock you up in my basement, There's no escaping, Your time has run out, You've got beef I'll throw you in the street gutter, Every line can rhyme with each other, My rhymes are phat, like they eat butter, I do this shit for kicks, I don't care if it benefits, When i spit, but you'd better get a grip, And listen to my threats, I'm a RU-vid writer, I'm complex, and I perplex and vex, mate, Imma keep your ass in check in chess, I impress, and invent a meticulous flow, I remain infamous though, Train your mind, To get into this show, My rhyme schemes,and rap bring you to tears, There's a visene for that, It will make you clear headed, and fear fetishes, Here's the medicine, Make your dough and put some lettuce in, Let the dough rise and get big, Save it for your next gig, Don't blow it on hookers, like a sex pig, You're better than that, Keep your head intact, And just relax, I know I suck at rappin, like the Black Eyed Peas, but I can relax my knees, defy critics, like Jesus did the Sadducees, I'm a lower class MC, Livin in a brash city, It's a sad pity, that I never found a launching pad, To put me on the map, but I don't complain, I work a nine to five, It's hard to find the drive, Or a reason that I'm alive, but hey, I'm your friendly RU-vid writer, I lack talent and can only rhyme one syllable, It's pitiful, my minds incarcerated, like a criminal, Why are you so critical, I've just started, and now you've retarded, All progress that I'd made, You should encourage me, And nourish me, I'll make it a sin to hate me, When i create these ryhmes that are scintillating, You should commend this and now listen to this last sentence, Through my trials and tribulations I stay patient and at the end find smiles and liberation And If my shits whack, You can tell me to Get Back, Like I'm Ludicrous, but if my shit's good you can say what did he do to this, beat he rocked the shit, it's demonstrative of his greatness, he'll reach the top of this Rap game, He's that insane.
***** okay im a provoking giant, a walkin' tyrant, causin' tyranny, im like a reaper stealin' your soul n sellin' it to the industry, I got the word play ability, to mind fuck you mentally, grab the scythe and murder you physically, tryna diss me, nah nigga you ain;t got shit when im sync with this melody, ya scheme is horrifically, terrible, I grab my lyrical nine aim it ya temple, then put a needle to ya brain, do you wanna gamble on me bein' insane? cause if you start to scream, slash slice have a nice dream, you talk shit, you get hit, and get lit, by my lyrical beretta, talkin' shit like you cleva', I had your back, but fuck that, you stepped up now you the second to served, like the first, this shit is said and done im one n done, cause you ain't worthy of my presence, bitch im out for dead presidents.
This beat is sooooo hard af! Always been one of my most favorite of all time. Gritty, grimy, rugged, cut throat, gangsta, dog eat dog, hostile, every man for himself, wicked, watch yo back, stay strapped, protect yo neck, trust no man, stand alone in the concrete jungle. #nas #queensbridge
Gears of war, tears of whores, cheers and roars, in the colosseum, after scenes full of gore, see its no different, gladiator mind state, hustlin, the new age means hunger games, instead of stabbin cowards bustin, soon therell be no progression, no trustin, warring samurai period everyone with smith n wessons, to prove skill we still use gentlemen methods, duel to the death cause we desperate
+Carlos Magno Sam I am, I don't like green eggs and ham, so I stuffed him in a minivan and shipped him to Japan Miracle spiritual lyrical individual (•c•)
When this came out NYC was still dirty and had that old grime shit - chunks and pieces left over from the Koch era. NYC was still trying to recover from the 1980's. Now when I go back home the blocks look strange, backwards, false, everything is different, new faces in familiar places, the city has a different pace - although still dark in some corners, certain scars about the streets that will never fully heal, no matter how much asphalt, metal and concrete you try to cover it up with. When I look at old pictures from 88-93, NY still had that unique "glaze" to it, that "good noisy stink". "You can try to change my flesh, but my old faded ghosts will still overcast and haunt your deepest memories right through the thin air". ----The City of New York
[Intro] Yeah, yeah Ayo, Black-it's time, word (Word, it's time, man) It's time, man (Aight, man, begin) Yeah-straight out the fuckin' dungeons of rap Where fake niggas don't make it back I don't know how to start this shit, yo-now; [Verse 1] Rappers; I monkey flip 'em with the funky rhythm I be kickin', musician inflictin' composition Of pain, I'm like Scarface sniffin' cocaine Holdin' an M16, see, with the pen I'm extreme Now, bullet holes left in my peepholes I'm suited up with street clothes, hand me a 9 and I'll defeat foes Y'all know my steelo, with or without the airplay I keep some E&J, sittin' bent up in the stairway Or either on the corner bettin' Grants with the cee-lo champs Laughin' at base-heads, tryna sell some broken amps G-packs get off quick, forever niggas talk shit Reminiscin' about the last time the task force flipped Niggas be runnin' through the block shootin' Time to start the revolution, catch a body, head for Houston Once they caught us off-guard, the MAC-10 was in the grass, and I ran like a cheetah, with thoughts of an assassin Picked the MAC up, told brothers "Back up!" - the MAC spit Lead was hittin' niggas, one ran, I made him back-flip Heard a few chicks scream, my arm shook, couldn't look Gave another squeeze, heard it click, "Yo, my shit is stuck!" Tried to cock it, it wouldn't shoot, now I'm in danger Finally pulled it back and saw three bullets caught up in the chamber So, now I'm jettin' to the buildin' lobby And it was full of children, prob'ly couldn't see as high as I be (So, what you sayin'?) It's like the game ain't the same Got younger niggas pullin' the triggers, bringin' fame to their name And claim some corners, crews without guns are goners In broad daylight, stick-up kids, they run up on us .45’s and gauges, MAC's in fact Same niggas will catch you back-to-back, snatchin' your cracks And black, there was a snitch on the block gettin' niggas knocked So hold your stash 'til the coke price drop I know this crackhead who said she gotta smoke nice rock And if it's good, she'll bring you customers and measuring pots But yo, you gotta slide on a vacation Inside information keeps large niggas erasin' and their wives basin' It drops deep as it does in my breath I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined I think of crime when I'm in a New York State of Mind [Chorus] New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind [Verse 2] Be havin' dreams that I'm a gangsta, drinkin' Moëts, holdin' TEC's Makin' sure the cash came correct, then I stepped Investments in stocks, sewin' up the blocks to sell rocks Winnin' gunfights with mega-cops But just a nigga walkin' with his finger on the trigger Make enough figures until my pockets get bigger I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin' Give me a Smith & Wesson, I'll have niggas undressin' Thinkin' of cash flow, Buddha and shelter Whenever frustrated, I'ma hijack Delta In the PJ's, my blend tape plays, bullets are strays Young bitches is grazed, each block is like a maze Full of black rats trapped, plus the Island is packed From what I hear in all the stories when my peoples come back Black, I'm livin' where the nights is jet-black The fiends fight to get crack, I just max, I dream I can sit back And lamp like Capone, with drug scripts sewn Or the legal luxury life, rings flooded with stones, homes I got so many rhymes, I don't think I'm too sane Life is parallel to Hell, but I must maintain And be prosperous, though we live dangerous Cops could just arrest me, blamin' us; we're held like hostages It's only right that I was born to use mics And the stuff that I write is even tougher than dykes I'm takin' rappers to a new plateau, through rap slow My rhymin' is a vitamin held without a capsule The smooth criminal on beat breaks Never put me in your box if your shit eats tapes The city never sleeps, full of villains and creeps That's where I learned to do my hustle, had to scuffle with freaks I'm a addict for sneakers, 20's of Buddha and bitches with beepers In the streets I can greet ya, about blunts I teach ya Inhale deep like the words of my breath I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death I lay puzzled as I backtrack to earlier times Nothing's equivalent to the New York state of mind [Chorus] New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind [Outro: Sample] "Nasty Nas-"
Yeah, yeah Ayo Black, it's time, word (word, it's time, man) It's time, man (a'ight, man, begin) Yeah, straight out the fuckin' dungeons of rap Where fake niggas don't make it back I don't know how to start this shit, yo, now Rappers, I monkey flip 'em with the funky rhythm I be kickin', musician inflictin' composition of pain, I'm like Scarface sniffin' cocaine Holdin' an M16, see, with the pen I'm extreme Now, bullet holes left in my peepholes I'm suited up with street clothes, hand me a .9, and I'll defeat foes Y'all know my steelo, with or without the airplay I keep some E&J, sittin' bent up in the stairway Or either on the corner bettin' Grants with the cee-lo champs Laughin' at base-heads, tryna sell some broken amps G-packs get off quick, forever niggas talk shit Reminiscin' about the last time the task force flipped Niggas be runnin' through the block shootin' Time to start the revolution, catch a body, head for Houston Once they caught us off-guard, the MAC-10 was in the grass, and I ran like a cheetah, with thoughts of an assassin Picked the MAC up, told brothers "Back up!", the MAC spit Lead was hittin' niggas, one ran, I made him back-flip Heard a few chicks scream, my arm shook, couldn't look Gave another squeeze, heard it click, "Yo, my shit is stuck!" Tried to cock it, it wouldn't shoot, now I'm in danger Finally, pulled it back and saw three bullets caught up in the chamber So, now I'm jettin' to the buildin' lobby And it was full of children, prob'ly couldn't see as high as I be (So, what you sayin'?) It's like the game ain't the same Got younger niggas pullin' the triggers, bringin' fame to their name And claim some corners, crews without guns are goners In broad daylight, stick-up kids, they run up on us .45's and gauges, MAC's in fact Same niggas will catch you back-to-back, snatchin' your cracks in black There was a snitch on the block gettin' niggas knocked So hold your stash 'til the coke price drop I know this crackhead who said she gotta smoke nice rock And if it's good, she'll bring you customers and measuring pots But yo, you gotta slide on a vacation Inside information keeps large niggas erasin' and their wives basin' It drops deep as it does in my breath I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined I think of crime when I'm in a New York State of Mind New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind Be havin' dreams that I'm a gangsta, drinkin' Moëts, holdin' TEC's Makin' sure the cash came correct, then I stepped Investments in stocks, sewin' up the blocks to sell rocks Winnin' gunfights with mega-cops Make enough figures until my pockets get bigger I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin' Give me a Smith & Wesson, I'll have niggas undressin' Thinkin' of cash flow, Buddha, and shelter Whenever frustrated, I'ma hijack Delta In the PJ's, my blend tape plays, bullets are strays Young bitches is grazed, each block is like a maze Full of black rats trapped, plus the Island is packed From what I hear in all the stories when my peoples come back black I'm livin' where the nights is jet-black The fiends fight to get crack, I just max, I dream I can sit back And lamp like Capone, with drug scripts sewn Or the legal luxury life, rings flooded with stones, homes I got so many rhymes, I don't think I'm too sane Life is parallel to Hell, but I must maintain And be prosperous, though we live dangerous Cops could just arrest me, blamin' us, we're held like hostages It's only right that I was born to use mics And the stuff that I write is even tougher than dykes I'm takin' rappers to a new plateau, through rap slow My rhymin' is a vitamin held without a capsule The smooth criminal on beat breaks Never put me in your box if your shit eats tapes The city never sleeps, full of villains and creeps That's where I learned to do my hustle, had to scuffle with freaks I'm a addict for sneakers, 20's of Buddha and bitches with beepers In the streets I can greet ya, about blunts I teach ya Inhale deep like the words of my breath I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death I lay puzzled as I backtrack to earlier times Nothing's equivalent to the New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind
lyrics for anyone who need: Yeah, yeah Ayo, Black, it's time Word, word, it's time, man It's time, man Aight, man, begin Yeah, straight out the fuckin' dungeons of rap Where fake niggas don't make it back I don't know how to start this shit, yo, now Rappers I monkey flip 'em with the funky rhythm I be kickin' Musician, inflictin' composition, of pain I'm like Scarface sniffin' cocaine Holdin' a M16, see with the pen I'm extreme Now, bullet holes left in my peepholes I'm suited up in street clothes Hand me a nine and I'll defeat foes Y'all know my steelo with or without the airplay I keep some E&J, sittin' bent up in the stairway Or either on the corner bettin' Grants with the cee-lo champs Laughin' at base-heads, tryna sell some broken amps G-packs get off quick, forever niggas talk shit Reminiscin' about the last time the task force flipped Niggas be runnin' through the block shootin' Time to start the revolution, catch a body head for Houston Once they caught us off guard, the MAC-10 was in the grass, and I ran like a cheetah, with thoughts of an assassin Picked the MAC up, told brothers, "Back up, " the MAC spit Lead was hittin' niggas, one ran, I made him back flip Heard a few chicks scream, my arm shook, couldn't look Gave another squeeze, heard it click, "Yo, my shit is stuck" Try to cock it, it wouldn't shoot, now I'm in danger Finally pulled it back, and saw three bullets caught up in the chamber So, now I'm jettin' to the buildin' lobby And it was full with children, probably couldn't see as high as I be (So what you sayin'?) It's like the game ain't the same Got younger niggas pullin' the triggers bringin' fame to they name And claim some corners, crews without guns are goners In broad daylight, stickup kids, they run up on us .45's and gauges, MAC's in fact Same niggas'll catch a back to back, snatchin' your cracks in black There was a snitch on the block gettin' niggas knocked So hold your stash 'til the coke price drop I know this crackhead, who said she gotta smoke nice rock And if it's good, she'll bring ya customers and measuring pots, but yo You gotta slide on a vacation Inside information keeps large niggas erasin' and they wives basin' It drops deep as it does in my breath I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined I think of crime, when I'm in a New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind Be havin' dreams that I'm a gangsta, drinkin' Moëts, holdin' TEC's Makin' sure the cash came correct, then I stepped Investments in stocks, sewin' up the blocks to sell rocks Winnin' gunfights with mega cops But just a nigga, walkin' with his finger on the trigger Make enough figures until my pockets get bigger I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin' Give me a Smith & Wesson, I'll have niggas undressin' Thinkin' of cash flow, Buddha and shelter Whenever frustrated, I'ma hijack Delta In the PJ's, my blend tape plays, bullets are strays Young bitches is grazed, each block is like a maze Full of black rats trapped, plus the Island is packed From what I hear in all the stories when my peoples come back, black I'm livin' where the nights is jet black The fiends fight to get crack, I just max, I dream I can sit back And lamp like Capone, with drug scripts sewn Or the legal luxury life, rings flooded with stones, homes I got so many rhymes I don't think I'm too sane Life is parallel to Hell but I must maintain And be prosperous, though we live dangerous Cops could just arrest me, blamin' us, we're held like hostages It's only right that I was born to use mics And the stuff that I write, is even tougher than dykes I'm takin' rappers to a new plateau, through rap slow My rhymin' is a vitamin, Hell without a capsule The smooth criminal on beat breaks Never put me in your box if your shit eats tapes The city never sleeps, full of villians and creeps That's where I learned to do my hustle had to scuffle with freaks I'ma addict for sneakers, twenties of Buddha and bitches with beepers In the streets I can greet ya, about blunts I teach ya Inhale deep like the words of my breath I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death I lay puzzled as I backtrack to earlier times Nothing's equivalent, to the New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind New York state of mind Nasty Nas Nasty Nas Nasty Nas Nasty Nas Nasty Nas Nasty Nas Nasty Nas Nasty Nas Nasty Nas Nasty
It's about the practice, "He'll never amount to it" So, I practice... The fact of the matter, Is my mind is beyond it The ground vanishes, Leaving the ego astonished by its Illusion, the past of confusion, The suffering of the memories Is the abuse of ignorance But the entertainment of it is amusing? Whichever path is worth pursuing The influence of others opinions Is a state of mind worth refusing Letting go into the present like it is one Judge it, the truth won't budge... it must hit.
@@frado9194 Hey, thanks for the feedback. I did play it out in my head. It's simply written expression to a beat. I'm not trying to make a hit or something that follows any guidelines.
//wake up in the morning like what happened to the game though//Illegitimate,you threw a pass at all the same foes//Swervin in the right lane,welcome to the caine show//glad to have you with us and I'm here to entertain so//noddin 100 the bundle shot up in the vein flow..
"Yeah yeah, aiyyo black it's time (word?) (Word, it's time nigga?) Yeah, it's time man (aight nigga, begin) Yeah, straight out the fuckin dungeons of rap Where fake niggaz don't make it back I don't know how to start this shit, yo, now Rappers I monkey flip 'em with the funky rhythm I be kickin Musician, inflictin composition of pain I'm like Scarface sniffin cocaine Holdin a M-16, see with the pen I'm extreme, now Bulletholes left in my peepholes I'm suited up in street clothes Hand me a nine and I'll defeat foes Y'all know my steelo with or without the airplay I keep some E&J, sittin bent up in the stairway Or either on the corner bettin Grants with the celo champs Laughin at baseheads, tryin to sell some broken amps G-Packs get off quick, forever niggaz talk shit Remeniscing about the last time the Task Force flipped Niggaz be runnin through the block shootin Time to start the revolution, catch a body head for Houston Once they caught us off guard, the Mac-10 was in the grass and I ran like a cheetah with thoughts of an assassin Pick the Mac up, told brothers, ""Back up,"" the Mac spit Lead was hittin niggaz one ran, I made him backflip Heard a few chicks scream my arm shook, couldn't look Gave another squeeze heard it click yo, my shit is stuck Try to cock it, it wouldn't shoot now I'm in danger Finally pulled it back and saw three bullets caught up in the chamber So now I'm jetting to the building lobby and it was filled with children probably couldn't see as high as I be (So whatchu sayin?) It's like the game ain't the same Got younger niggaz pullin the triggers bringing fame to they name and claim some corners, crews without guns are goners In broad daylight, stickup kids, they run up on us Fo'-fives and gauges, Macs in fact Same niggaz'll catch a back to back, snatchin yo' cracks in black There was a snitch on the block gettin niggaz knocked So hold your stash until the coke price drop I know this crackhead, who said she gotta smoke nice rock And if it's good she'll bring ya customers in measuring pots, but yo You gotta slide on a vacation Inside information keeps large niggaz erasin and they wives basin It drops deep as it does in my breath I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined I think of crime when I'm in a New York state of mind Be havin dreams that I'ma gangster - drinkin Moets, holdin Tecs Makin sure the cash came correct then I stepped Investments in stocks, sewein up the blocks to sell rocks, winnin gunfights with mega cops But just a nigga, walking with his finger on the trigger Make enough figures until my pockets get bigger I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin Give me a Smith and Wessun I'll have niggaz undressin Thinkin of cash flow, buddah and shelter Whenever frustrated I'ma hijack Delta In the P.J.'s, my blend tape plays, bullets are strays Young bitches is grazed each block is like a maze full of black rats trapped, plus the Island is packed From what I hear in all the stories when my peoples come back, black I'm livin where the nights is jet black The fiends fight to get crack I just max, I dream I can sit back and lamp like Capone, with drug scripts sewn Or the legal luxury life, rings flooded with stones, homes I got so many rhymes I don't think I'm too sane Life is parallel to Hell but I must maintain and be prosperous, though we live dangerous cops could just arrest me, blamin us, we're held like hostages It's only right that I was born to use mics and the stuff that I write, is even tougher than dykes I'm takin rappers to a new plateau, through rap slow My rhymin is a vitamin, held without a capsule The smooth criminal on beat breaks Never put me in your box if your shit eats tapes The city never sleeps, full of villians and creeps That's where I learned to do my hustle had to scuffle with freaks I'ma addict for sneakers, twenties of buddah and bitches with beepers In the streets I can greet ya, about blunts I teach ya Inhale deep like the words of my breath I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death I lay puzzle as I backtrack to earlier times Nothing's equivalent, to the new york state of mind "
