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    [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 Aluda Ra
    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 Sean John, bore me with your fake ass 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 bitch you down with
    While they riding NAS, trying to boost their careers
    Corny as CORMEGA, 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

    [Female voice sample] You make me feel so good

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