When my friends and I say we rap, people quick to laugh at us but fuck them we bringing hip-hop back to life like it was Lazarus. Rolling indo/in dough , I don’t need green so you don’t have to pass the Dutch, I don’t ask for much, maybe just enough to live a nice life so I write rhymes, incite minds in the sidelines because I’m glad to be part of those least likely to win living a moral life so you won’t find me in sin. I’m Nasty, Nas TY (thank you) for showing me the underdog can break through with hard work and hard rhymes, like my computer I got a hard drive and dedication with lyrics that demand attention.
I’m not afraid of Hell, I’m beyond Satan. This ain’t show and tell, the fuck are you stating? I’ve met God, I’ve met Death, and Ol’ Scratch, so if someone thinks they scare me I’m off that. Hate in my heart, make it hard to see but if you try to start shit you’ll get swallowed by the sea. Anger runs rampant, loathing go next to it, fuck Waka Flocka but if you want to verbal spar O Let’s Do it. Fuck Louisinamals, bitch I am a CALnibbal. The Devil keeps scheming, wants to see me with demons, but I stay above all that, my love keep me on track like a bullet train or like Usain, but I’ll be honest you might say I’m better, not unlike Tyson Gay. I just write to play, may not write today but I’ll be damned if I do not write a way to get out right away. To get out of the middle class or out of the hood you have to do out the hood type shit, that’s what I open my mind and write this, expose my thoughts to electronic media, brain so large it don’t fit in three Mediums and I ain’t talking about Ghost Whisperers, when I’m feeling down I call my girl and whisper her, “Babe I love you” and she know it’s true, she smile and life is beautiful.
O Allaah, forgive our living and our dead, those who are present among us and those who are absent, our young and our old, our males and our females. O Allaah, whoever You keep alive, keep him alive in Islam, and whoever You cause to die, cause him to die with faith. O Allaah, forgive him and have mercy on him, keep him safe and sound and forgive him, honour the place where he settles and make his entrance wide; wash him with water and snow and hail, and cleanse him of sin as a white garment is cleansed of dirt. O Allaah, give him a house better than his house and a family better than his family. O Allaah, admit him to Paradise and protect him from the torment of the grave and the torment of Hell-fire; make his grave spacious and fill it with light. O Allaah, do not deprive us of the reward and do not cause us to go astray after this
I’m not afraid of Hell, I’m beyond Satan.
I put my eggs in one basket, don’t count my chicks before hatching, my parents never imagined they’d have their eldest kid rapping, how the Hell does it happen? Use to sleep with one eye open, now every time I open the floodgates of my mind, and think of any of my rhymes I realize that just maybe it’s my time so I turn on my SNES for some inspiration, few session of Street Fighter to fight my depression, after beating the game I realize that I look like Zangief, but more like Dhalsim, not in the tall/slim but in the ability to spit flame. Every time I grab the mic and go off the top of the dome, people wonder, “What is wrong with Pzowned?” I bet they think that I sit and write this, but that’s a lie, I just close my eyes and recite from the back of my eyelids.
Every now and then girls would do or say something mad suspect and they wonder why I would get mad upset, enough for me to wonder, “Fuck it man, what’s next?” and “I wonder, should I stay, or should I just jet?” Raised in Bakersfield, like Korn, I guess I’m destined to have issues but they all seem to fade away once I kiss you, which makes much sense I just can’t help that at times my brain’s sum’n dense. A big fan of Sonic the Hamilton, guess that’s why I have a hard time when I need to handle sum’n, he instilled in me that idea that day after day I could get visions of us, and then a quick vision of you not giving a fuck.
The night is calling.
Die for something or else you’ll live for nothing.
Or live for something and then you’ll die for nothing.
Your style like linen on the clothesline, drying in the sunshine - so fresh. Your kisses special like water for chocolate, it’s good to me. Your touch so gentle, like a mother’s caress and I feel it. Let me love you, maybe for more than just a little bit.
Stuck in between reality and dreams.
This always takes me back to when we first started.