Nas

Released: July 11, 2008

Songwriter: J. Myers Dustin Moore Nas

Producer: J. Myers Dustin Moore

[Chorus]
In America, you'll never be free
Middle fingers up, fuck the police
Damn, can't a nigga just breathe?
Braveheart, still QB's Finest
Grinding, enough diamonds to change the climate
Not only do you see a nigga shining, you can see a nigga breathe
Jewels enchanted, like they was new from Atlantis (uhh)
Cruise with the hammer, jealous hearted, can't stand him
Haters are scandalous, damn, can't a nigga just breathe? (woo!)
To all my niggas getting money in the streets (yeah)
Middle fingers up, fuck the police
Light up my trees, and I just breathe...

[Verse 1]
I twist 'em, baby mama beef victim
Chronic leaf hitting, all kinds of heat with him, wisdom
From pot to piss in to high position
Intense hustle, it's pain like a pinched muscle
'Til it rains and my Timbs stain my socks
'Til I dodge enough shots and the presiding judge slams a mallet
And says life I'ma guap, then I cop
Then I yacht, then I dock
Island hopping away from nightmare holders
Or cowboy slingers, who shoot up any club
To see they names ring loud on some FBI poster
Must be on X or they coked up
Suggesting I post a, bail, I'm like, "Yes" 'cause we soldiers
We just getting older, in time, we still in our prime
I can't afford a new arrest on my folder
Nigga, breathe...

[Chorus]
In America, you'll never be free
Middle fingers up, fuck the police
Damn, can't a nigga just breathe?
Braveheart, still QB's Finest
Grinding, enough diamonds to change the climate
Not only do you see a nigga shining, you can see a nigga breathe
Jewels enchanted like they was new from Atlantis (uhh)
Cruise with the hammer, jealous hearted, can't stand him
Haters are scandalous, damn, can't a nigga just breathe? (woo!)
To all my niggas getting money in the streets (get money)
Middle fingers up, fuck the police (fuck 'em)
Light up my trees, and I just breathe...

[Verse 2]
I'm, fresh out of city housing, ain't have too many options
Pennies on a pension or penitentiary bounded
Plenty Henny in me, envy was simply they trend, see
My enemy was every hater that was bigger than me
The high life, the fly life
Pierre Hardy, imitation of Christ
Ice-wear gaudy, since '94 flossy
The Lex was an excellent choice now fast forward me
The pestilence of the ghetto informed me
As a shorty, to push nothing less than a 740
With fresh linen, sip Pellegrinos with Airs on
They sick, mixing they water with Airborne

[Interlude]
Oh, they so sick!
Look how I got 'em going crazy, look at that!
You gotta let it out, stress, ain't good man
You gotta breathe (breathe...)
And America, we gotta be free

[Outro]
Breathe...
Breathe...
Breathe...
Breathe...

Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones, known to one and all as Nas, is one of hip-hop’s best-known, most mercurial, and lyrically blessed figures ever to touch the microphone. Since his heart-stopping debut turn on Main Source’s “Live at the Barbeque,” Nas has delivered countless beautifully structured, thought-provoking, keenly observed verses.

Growing up in Queens, NY, Nas never really performed in big crowds—he kept to himself. Nas used a different type of vernacular that others didn’t understand, which helped him to stand out from other rappers from his era.

With every ensuing album, Nas always reminds fans that he’s still the same Queensbridge MC who crafted one of the greatest albums of all time, and arguably the bible of Hip-Hop, Illmatic.

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