Released: September 23, 2002

Songwriter: Precision Michelle Bell Nas

Producer: Precision

[Produced by Precision]

[Verse 1]
Pushin' drop-tops, Stacy Lattisaw tapes, the 80's had us all apes
Youngest gorillas up to bat at home plate
That was a uncanny era, guns in my pants, yeah
X-Clan hair, with dreads at the top of my fade
Homicidal feds on the blocks where I played b-ball
That's when I wondered was I here for the cause or because
'Cause Ray Charles could see the ghetto
Was told to stay strong and I could beat the devil
'Cause yo, I used to play Apollo balcony seats
Watchin' niggas swing razors in the front row
Then out in the streets, the car show, 560's, chemical Afros
Acuras pumpin' Super Lover Cee and Casanova
Live chicks be asses bustin' out of they clothes
Wearin' lip gloss, big door knockers peelin' they earlobes
So where them years go?
Where the Old Gold beers and cheers go?
But now them shorties here though, so

[Chorus]
The doo rags are back, fitted hats, snorkels and furs
Rikers Island buses still packed, what's the word?
The drinkers stay drinkin', or puffin' they herb
And I'm still enjoyin' life's ride; one mo' time
The doo rags are back, fitted hats, snorkels and furs
Rikers Island buses still packed, what's the word?
The drinkers still drinkin', or puffin' they herb
And I'm still enjoyin' life's ride, right?

[Verse 2]
Political thugs in shark suits persuade us to pull triggers
In army boots, yellin', "Join the armed forces!"
We lost the Vietnam War, intoxicated poisons
Needles in arms of veterans instead of bigger fortunes
There's still a lot of nigga crawlin' in the corporate offices
War in the ghetto, we crabs in a barrel, they torture us
They won't be servin' the beast too long
The murderers wearin' police uniforms, Confederate flags I burn
Beat Street breakers were dancin' to the music I chose
And Peachtree, Atlanta crackheads was tootin' they nose
In frozen corners of Chicago
Loaded-up llamas, children with fo'-fo's and double-revolvers
We devil incarnates headed for jail
Where Shell gas company in South Africa be havin' us killed
Your paper money was the death of Christ
And all these shorties comin' up just resurrect your life
It's like a cycle, yo

[Chorus]
The doo rags are back, fitted hats, snorkels and furs
Rikers Island buses still packed, what's the word?
The drinkers stay drinkin', or puffin' they herb
And I'm still enjoyin' life's ride; one mo' time
The doo rags are back, fitted hats, snorkels and furs
Rikers Island buses still packed, what's the word?
The drinkers still drinkin', or puffin' they herb
And I'm still enjoyin' life's ride, right?

[Verse 3]
Niggas used to wear rags on they hair when it was fried up
That's when we were lied to, buyin' hair products
Back before my generation, when our blackness started disintegratin' till awareness started penetratin'
The styles come from prison, they used potatoes makin' liquor
Just to prove we some creative niggas
Turnin' nothin' into somethin' is God work
And you get nothin' without struggle and hard work
War is necessary to my niggas in chains
From Green to Sing-Sing I'm wantin' y'all to know one thing
The hardest thing is to forgive, but God does
Even if you murdered or robbed, yeah it's wrong, but God loves
Take one step toward him, He takes two toward you
Even when all else fail, God support you
I done it, got "God's Son" on my stomach
My heart and my lungs was affected
From Henny's and gettin' blunted
Do your body right and it loves you back
You only get one life, and yo, because of that
I'm still blazin', goin' out for the cause
Still rockin' stockin' caps, not for the waves, obeyin' no laws
And it's like that

[Chorus]
The doo rags are back, fitted hats, snorkels and furs
Rikers Island buses still packed, what's the word?
The drinkers stay drinkin', or puffin' they herb
And I'm still enjoyin' life's ride; one mo' time
The doo rags are back, fitted hats, snorkels and furs
Rikers Island buses still packed, what's the word?
The drinkers still drinkin', or puffin' they herb
And I'm still enjoyin' life's ride, right?

Nas

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.