Nas

Released: September 23, 2002

Songwriter: Nas Trackmasters L.E.S.

Producer: L.E.S. Trackmasters

[Verse 1]
Blaze a 50, sit back in the drop top Azure Bentley
Of course with me, this chick'll make Bobby divorce Whitney
Brazilian candy, from Miami
Masseuse, wedding ring on, loving Celine Dion
Hate rap, told me where she get cake at
She's a part-time dancer, part time romancer
Tries to be a mother when she gets a chance to
Left her husband alone to raise they son, he's in Pampers
Modeled for a year, got her bachelors degree
33, recovering from plastic surgery
Went from 34B to 36 double D
Met her in San Diego at the Super Bowl party
Had the Henny, sipped it up with Terrell Davis
MVP, we flicked it up from Sports Illustrated
I was silked out, flossin' with Stoute, he had the 'gators
When she walked in, she lit up the room like Las Vegas
Terrell said her man's a fullback for the Raiders
A drunk who'd fuck cheerleaders and wind up in the papers
It's easy to get the pussy, just don't fall in love
Next thing you know I'm hugged up with this bitch in the tub
Palm Springs, Al Capone's Suite washin' her feet
Is this love? Somebody's wife fucking a thug
Hittin' it raw, tastin' it, wildin' out of my character
Tapin' it, Tyra Banks face and Faith's lips
Givin' head like she knew me for years
Pillow talk, she let out tears, told me 'bout her husband's affairs
Millions she would get if his neck got slit
She rolled the equality, then passed the lye to me
Told me 'bout her man's life insurance policy
He stays on the golf course, wears Le Coq Sportif
Evenings he drinks his wines on his private resort
You can take him there, here go the keys, you can slip in the rear
Chop a nigga up, yo, meet me somewhere
So we can make more money, then you could ever see rappin'
Split the cash and move to Venezuela, adaptin'
P-11's, ACP shells for blastin'
Caught him with his Spanish maid
He had a lighter with a can of spray, burnin' her legs
She tied to the bed, sex S&M, sadomasochistic
Sadistic, yoked her from behind, blew him out existence
His maid cried "No", lucky she was blindfold
Naked with mad burn marks all on her thighs, yo
Twelve point five million, he kept his funds
In the Lloyd's of London, goes to his wife and his children
Yo, I thought "What if shorty gets scared, electric chair's all I envision
All she'll probably get is psychiatric supervision"
I switched the plan, the maid flied to Switzerland
Fake ID, forged his wife name, catch the next flight
The same night, headed to Spain, nice game
Now we're back to where we meet a-gain...

[Verse 2]
Blaze a 50, sit back in a drop-top Azure Bentley
Of course with me, this chick'll make Bobby divorce Whitney
Top down, night air blow her hair
Sky black, stars glow, the face on the moon stare
Fast lane on the nine-five, honey laughs about the cash
Took a blast out of her coke bag
Snorted it, started screamin', yo we almost crashed
Earlier I took the coke out, replaced it with crushed up glass
Her head nodded down to her chest, slowly she fell asleep
Overwhelmed by greed, put to death

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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