I know its about a balance and lyrics do matter but things like flow, and beat selection matter too and Nas flowed better over better beats
Im jus saying that LYRICALLY Nas was subpar compared to albums like HHID and Untitled
I did not contradict my self
no he was not, like I said it's just that most of the songs weren't political or hiphopish but he was on point,
3:45 am can’t sleep, can’t dream
I’m stuck, money problems pop up
How will I survive, guess it’s best to decide not to decide
So that’s my decision
Whatever happens happens
I keep makin’ my millions
Can see myself in presidential campaign dinners
But I’m passin’ blunts around a bunch of gang members
When you’re too hood to be in them Hollywood circles
And you’re too rich to be in that hood that birthed you
And you become better than legends you thought were the greatest
And out grow women you love and thought you could stay with
Life become clearer when you wipe down your mirror
And leave notes around for yourself to remember
I like to teach and build
With brothers about how easy it is to reach a mill
All you need is some skill, then it’s grindtime
Imagination better than knowledge, say’s Einstein
It’s all in the mind
Nasty the nicest, I’m somewhat of a psychic
Just one minute after it’s heard
You all excited, you all repeat it
So call me a genius, if you didn’t
Now that I said it I force you to think it
Write in my little vignettes, sipping Moet
When you vision me, you vision the best
When I was young they called me, Olu’s son
Now he Nas father, I was the good seed
He was the wise gardener
At times I window watch at the Wynn hotel
Lots of thinking happens in life, will I win or fail?
Mind of a shooter, CFO also
Ethiopian food flown in, it's unlawful
Money is attractive, honey dress strapless
Agent Provocateur underwear: she's classic
Stroll up in the party: titanium black car
Romanian ladies like Casablanca, Casbah
'Cept we in the VIP area, that's ours
You know the real rap gods, typical trap star turned rap star
These old heads got stories, the days they was kings
I pray secret indictments don't take away their dreams
You 16, you could do 20, come home young
Catch 20 years when you 40? Holmes, you're done
What have we become? Rap stars from trap stars
Black gods to Ansars to Sunnis back to goonies
A 360 in the streets real grizzly
Shooters is cold, kid, the old shyt was learning
Student enrollment to focus, yet hooligans roll with
Toasters to pop your medullas off of your shoulders
This ain't the Truman Show; it's the human show
Ask the F.B.I. agent at his cubicle
Chewing on his pencil eraser with intents to erase you
It's U.S.A. against the gangsta, where's the love?
I mean come on