Stillmatic Lyrics - Soundtrack Exclusives & Rarities - Nas

[Nas having conversation with himself] 

Ayo Nasty Nas, what up? 

~Ain't nothing, a lot of cowards frontin'. 

I hear what you're saying, but yo, this is all love for me, you know? 

~No doubt, smoke them cowards, you STILLMATIC 

Ma, I'm sorry who the fuck I AM, I can't trust my fans 

Out of luck, no constructive plans 

My friends stay powdered up, I'm so drunk, can't stand 

You said if I would sober up, I'd be a powerful man 

Turned out the street life, you prayed I wouldn't 

But every church in the world can't save our children 

I stayed out late, you heard shots, thought it would be 

Your older son on the ground dead, but fortunately 

The bullets had some other names on it, the brother was blind 

I hit the el, than we yell out, "It wasn't my time!" 

I loaded up shells, one by one, you smelled blunts from my room door 

Little Nasir was at war 

And little did I care what you saw 

Crew deep with a few heat, now it's time we settle the score 

But in the projects, I visit Muhammad, in linen garments 

Preaching Man, Woman, and Child, the living Prophet 

And I'm similar, Nasir Bin Olu Dara 

Visqu Allah, fist full of dollars in the dice game God 

The Ice King, God, the Black Christ, elegant stance 

Clothes fit me like a crime boss, the menacing man 

I see the world collapsing, young pregnancies 

Young girls are fast and in their Sasoon jeans, no prophylactic 

All this fast shit and fly jewelry, now makes my eyes teary 

N Y City, grab a hold and ride with me 

Rip the FREEWAY, shoot through MEMPHIS with money bags 

Stop in Philly, order cheese steaks and eat BEANS fast 

And bring it back up top, remove the fake king of New York 

You show off, I count off when you sample my voice 

I rule you, before, you used to rap like the FU-SHNICKENS 

NAS designed your BLUEPRINT, who you kidding? 

Is he H TO THE IZZO, M TO THE IZZO? 

For shizzle you phony, the rapping version of SISQO 

And that's for certain, you clone me, your wack clothes line 

I'd rather wear Sean John, you bore me with your fake coke rhymes 

And those times, they never took place, you liar 

UN was your first court case, you had no priors 

You master fabricated stories of streets and sound slick 

Have you surrounded, you and the faggots you down with 

While they riding NAS, trying to boost their careers 

Corny as CORN-MEGA, all you Hip-Hop queers 

Since ILLMATIC, IT WAS WRITTEN: I AM... NASTRADAMUS 

That's the answers to the puzzle I gave you, now here's a promise 

My next few albums, instead of projects 

They'll be a difficult test inside the cover for the mind's optics 

Come in my hood, but bring the guns with you, it's dark 

Headed through Brooklyn, Queens, Harlem, Staten, and Bronx 

Headed through Compton, Oaktown, South Central, and Watts 

New Orleans, Mississippi, Chi-town, every block 

I'm trying to have my positive ways, I put my rhymes on page 

Did crimes and headline on stage 

I signed a contract, so here it is, you have it 

Streets disciple, I'm STILLMATIC 

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