Halftime (butcher Remix) Lyrics - Nas

Right... 

Check me out y'all, 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 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 flavour, I'm major 

Atlanta ain't braver, I pull a number like a pager 

Cuz I'mma 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'm a 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 

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Right... 

It's halftime... 

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 

Cuz I'm as ill as a convict who kills for phone time 

I'm max like cassettes, I flex like sex 

In ya, 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 

Wit more kicks than a baby in a mother's stomach 

Nasty Nas has to rise, cause I'm wise 

This is exercise till the microphone dies 

Back in '83, I was an MC sparking 

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

Kick my little raps cuz I thought niggaz wouldn't understand 

And now on every jam I'm the fucking 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, I'm an intellectual 

With rap, I'm a professional and that's no question, yo 

These are the lyrics of the man, you can't near it, understand 

Cuz 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'll be foul, whenever I freestyle 

I see trial niggaz say I'm wow 

I hate a rhymebiter's rhyme 

Stay tuned, I assume the real rap comes at halftime 

Photos 

Right... 

It's halftime 

I got it going on, even flip them on his song 

Every afternoon, I kick half the tune 

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

Word to Marcus Garvey I hardly sparked it 

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

I be slaying them fast, doing this, that and the third 

But chill, pass the Andre and let's lay 

I bag bitches up at John Jay and hit a matinee 

Putting hits on 5-0 

Cuz when it's my time to go, I wait for God wit the fo-fo And biters can't come near 

And you'll 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, Queens is living fat and 

The Boogie Down, enough props, enough clout 

Ill will, rest in peace, yo, I'm out 

Right... 

It's still halftime