This is the most fun I’ve ever had putting a “Top 10 Verses” piece together. I’ve always been a huge Nas fan but after writing the article I completely understand why he is labeled a poet. When you actually sit down and read his lyrics you realize through the complexity and vivid imagery the thought that must have been put into each and every one of these verses. God’s Son truly is a lyrical genius and if you read our article on the 10 Greatest MC’s of All Time last week, he’s one of the best to do ever do this thing called hip-hop. Let’s get down to business, Nas’ 10 Greatest Verses.
1. Illmatic/ N.Y. State Of Mind
This verse is just incredible, hardcore and so real that you feel like you’re standing in the middle of the QB. This also birthed the classic line “I never sleep, ‘cause sleep is the cousin of death which is worth the price of admission alone.
Rappers I monkey flip ’em with the funky rhythm I be kickin’
Musician, inflictin’ composition
Of pain I’m like Scarface sniffin’ cocaine
Holdin’ a M-16, see with the pen I’m extreme, now
Bullet holes left in my peepholes
I’m suited up in street clothes
Hand me a nine and I’ll defeat foes
Y’all know my steelo with or without the airplay
I keep some E&J, sittin’ bent up in the stairway
Or either on the corner bettin’ Grants with the cee-lo champs
Laughin’ at baseheads, tryin’ to sell some broken amps
G-Packs get off quick, forever niggas talk shit
Reminiscing about the last time the Task Force flipped
Niggas be runnin’ through the block shootin’
Time to start the revolution, catch a body head for Houston
Once they caught us off guard, the Mac-10 was in the grass and
I ran like a cheetah with thoughts of an assassin
Picked the Mac up, told brothers, “Back up,” the Mac spit
Lead was hittin’ niggas, one ran, I made him backflip
Heard a few chicks scream my arm shook, couldn’t look
Gave another squeeze heard it click yo, my shit is stuck
Tried to cock it, it wouldn’t shoot now I’m in danger
Finally pulled it back and saw three bullets caught up in the chamber
So now I’m jetting to the building lobby
and it was filled with children probably couldn’t see as high as I be
(So what you sayin’?) It’s like the game ain’t the same
Got younger niggas pullin’ the triggers bringing fame to they name
And claim some corners, crews without guns are goners
In broad daylight, stickup kids, they run up on us
Fo’-fives and gauges, Macs in fact
Same niggas’ll catch a back to back, snatchin’ yo’ cracks in black
There was a snitch on the block gettin’ niggas knocked
So hold your stash until the coke price drop
I know this crackhead, who said she gotta smoke nice rock
And if it’s good she’ll bring ya customers in measuring pots, but yo
You gotta slide on a vacation
Inside information keeps large niggas erasin’ and they wives basin’
It drops deep as it does in my breath
I never sleep, ’cause sleep is the cousin of death
Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined
I think of crime when I’m in a New York state of mind
2. Illmatic/ Memory Lane (Sittin’ in Da Park)
One of the hardest parts about this list was that we could have easily just picked 10 verses of Illmatic but we narrowed it down and went with this gem off of Memory Lane. Nas cuts through this track like a hot knife through butter using his words so creatively.
I rap for listeners, blunt heads, fly ladies and prisoners
Hennessey holders and old school niggas, then I be dissin’ a
Unofficial that smoke woolie thai
I dropped out of Cooley High, gassed up by a cokehead cutie pie
Jungle survivor, fuck who’s the liver
My man put the battery in my back, a difference from Energizer
Sentence begins indented, with formality
My duration’s infinite, money wise or physiology
Poetry, that’s a part of me, retardedly bop
I drop the ancient manifested hip-hop, straight off the block
I reminisce on park jams, my man was shot for his sheep coat
Childhood lesson make me see him drop in my weed smoke
It’s real, grew up in trife life, did times or white lines
The hype vice, murderous night times, and knife fights invite crimes
Chill on the block with Cognac, hold straps
With my peeps that’s into drug money, market into rap
No sign of the beast in the blue Chrysler, I guess that means peace
For niggas no sheisty vice to just snipe ya
Start off the dice-rollin’ mats for craps to cee-lo
With side bets, I roll a deuce, nothin’ below (Peace God)
Peace God, now the shit is explained
I’m takin’ niggas on a trip straight through memory lane
3. It Was Written/ The Message
It boggled my mind how some people can say It was written isn’t a classic when it has The Message On It. This verse is just hot and rumor has it that the, “there could only be one king” line was aimed straight at Biggie Smalls himself. Damn, New York had it on lock once upon a time.
Fake thug, no love, you get the slug, CB4 Gusto
Your luck low, I didn’t know ’til I was drunk though
You freak niggas played out, get fucked and ate out
Prostitute turned bitch, I got the gauge out
96 ways I made out, Montana way
The Good-F-E-L-L-A, verbal AK spray
Dipped attaché, jumped out the Range, empty out the ashtray
A glass of ‘ze make ya mad Cassius Clay
Red dot plots, murder schemes, thirty-two shotguns
Regulate with my Dunn’s, 17 rocks gleam from one ring
Yo let me let y’all niggas know one thing
There’s one life, one love, so there can only be one King
The highlights of livin’, Vegas style roll dice in linen
Anteras spinnin’ on Milleniums, twenty G bets I’m winnin’ them
Threats I’m sendin’ them, Lex with TV sets the minimum
Ill sex adrenaline
Party with villains, a case of Demi-Sec to chase the Henny
Wet any clique, with the semi-tech who want it
Diamonds I flaunt ’em, chickenheads flock I lace ’em
Fried broiled with basil, taste em, crack the legs
Way out of formation, it’s horizontal how I have ’em
Fuckin’ me in the Benz wagon
Can it be Vanity from Last Dragon
Grab your gun it’s on though
Shit is grimy, real niggas buck in broad daylight
With the broke Mac it won’t spray right
Don’t give a fuck who they hit, as long as the drama’s lit
Yo, overnight thugs, bug cause they ain’t promised shit
Hungry-ass hooligans stay on that piranha shit
4. It Was Written/ Take It In Blood
In my humble opinion, one of the greatest songs ever. It’s the epitome of a fly NYC song with Nas just speaking tales of the good life. Plus, who wouldn’t love to be chillin’ in the Lex watching Kathie Lee and Regis?
Yo, I never brag, how real I keep it, ’cause it’s the best secret
I rock a vest, prestigious, Cuban link flooded Jesus
In a Lex watchin’ Kathie Lee and Regis
My actions are one with the seasons
A tec squeezin’ executioner, winter time I rock a fur
Mega popular, center of attraction
Climaxin’, my bitches they be laughin’
They high from sniffin’ coke off a twenty-cent Andrew Jackson
City lights spark a New York night
Rossi and Martini sippin’, Sergio Tacchini flippin’ mad pies
Low price, I blow dice and throw them
Forty-five by my scrotum, manifest the “Do or Die” slogan
My niggas roll in ten M3’s
Twenty Gods poppin’ wheelies on Kawasaki’s
Hip-Hop’s got me on some ol’, sprayin’ shots like a drumroll
Blankin’ out and never miscount the shells my gun hold
I don’t stunt, I regulate
Henny and Sprite, I separate, watchin’ crab niggas marinate
I’m all about tecs a good jux and sex
Israelite books, holdin’ government names from Ness
MC’s are crawlin’ out, every hole in the slum
You’ll be aight like blood money in a pimp’s cum
5. I Am/ Nas Is Like
I Am wasn’t one of Nas’ best albums but it did include this hot DJ Premier produced track. It’s that vintage Nas flow and sound. This track would have easily fit right in on Illmatic or It Was Written. This has to be the hottest verse on the song and the line about taping CD covers to trees is allegedly about Jay-Z.
Freedom or jail, clips inserted, a baby’s bein’ born
Same time my man is murdered, the beginning and end
As far as rap go, it’s only natural, I explain
My plateau, and also, what defines my name
First it was Nasty, but times have changed
Ask me now, I’m the artist, but hardcore, my science for pain
I spent time in the game, kept my mind off fame
Saw fiends shoot up, and do lines of cocaine
Saw my close friends shot, flatline am I sane?
That depends, carry Mac-10’s to practice my aim
On rooftops, tape cd covers to trees
Line the barrel up with your weak picture then squeeze
Street scriptures for lost souls, in the crossroads
To the corner thugs hustlin’ for cars that cost dough
To the big dogs livin’ large, takin’ it light
Pushin’ big toys, gettin’ nice, enjoyin’ your life
It’s what you make it, suicide, few try to take it
Belt tied around they neck in jail cells naked
Heaven and hell, rap legend, presence is felt
And of course N-A-S are the letters that spell
6. Stillmatic/ One Mic
One Mic was like the crown jewel of Nas’ comeback album Stillmatic. This verse paints vivid pictures and the flow from slow paced to loud and filled with emotion is genius, just a crazy verse overall.
Yo, all I need is one mic, one beat, one stage
One nigga front my face on the front page
Only if I had one gun, one girl and one crib
One God to show me how to do things his son did
Pure, like a cup of virgin blood; mixed with
151, one sip’ll make a nigga flip
Writin’ names on my hollow tips, plottin’ shit
Mad violence who I’m gon’ body, this hood politics
Acknowledge it, leave bodies chopped up in garbages
Seeds watch us, grow up and try to follow us
Police watch us roll up and try knockin’ us
One knee I ducked, could it be my time is up?
But my luck, I got up, the cop shot again
Bus stop glass bursts, a fiend drops his Heineken
Richochetin’ between the spots that I’m hidin’ in
Blackin’ out as I shoot back, fuck gettin’ hit
This is my hood I’ma rep, to the death of it
‘Til everybody come home, little niggas is grown
Hoodrats, don’t abortion your womb, we need more warriors soon
Sent from the star sun and the moon
In this life of police chases street sweepers and coppers
Stick-up kids with no conscience, leavin’ victims with doctors
If you really think you ready to die, with nines out
This is what Nas is about, nigga the time is now
7. Street’s Disciple/ Thief’s Theme
You know you’re a dope MC when you can sample your own voice for a hook and that’s exactly what Nas did for Thief’s Theme. This verse embodies the streets taking us back to that old school NYC lyricism at its finest.
Yo I’m hot like 95 Fahrenheit
On a summer night, tight spot where bodies rot
Rats drink from water drops, in the streets niggas
Little kids scared cops, with red dots
Philosophical gangsta, with violent priors
Goin’ back like black and white TV’s with pliers
Leanin’ on broke down cars, with flat tires
Flash iron, anybody tryin’ on, the blocks I’m supplyin’ on
Maricon, my peeps, tie balloons up
And swallow ’em in the penal now got goons, lots of ’em
Cops see them and run, don’t want no drama
Certain parts of the streets, the beast don’t want a part of
Martyr, hood haunted like the Dakota
Where John Lennon was shot up, but he sang for peace
He begged for freedom, hanged wit wild Jamaicans
From Kingston, who drink Irish Malts
Listenin’ to Peter Winston, Macintosh
Lightning hits the top of the church steeple
When I’m writin’, semi-automatic no hyphen
It’s frightening
8. Stillmatic/ Ether
Ether is one of the most creative hip-hop tracks ever created from the beat to the lyrics and this verse is the one that knocked Jay-Z off his perpetual pedestal with insult after going after everything from Jay’s looks to his alleged past as a drug dealer.
Y’all niggas deal with emotions like bitches
What’s sad is I love you ’cause you’re my brother
You traded your soul for riches
My child, I’ve watched you grow up to be famous
And now I smile like a proud dad, watchin’ his only son that made it
You seem to be only concerned with dissin’ women
Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly?
Well life is harsh, hug me, don’t reject me
Or make records to disrespect me, blatant or indirectly
In ’88 you was gettin’ chased through your buildin’
Callin’ my crib and I ain’t even give you my numbers
All I did was gave you a style for you to run with
Smilin’ in my face, glad to break bread with the god
Wearin’ Jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars
No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case
Just Hawaiian shirts, hangin’ with little Chase
You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan
I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class
You Tae-Bo hoe, tryna’ work it out, you tryna’ get brolic?
Ask me if I’m tryna’ kick knowledge
Nah, I’m tryna’ kick the shit you need to learn though
That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow
Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy?
Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he’s Puffy
Rockefeller died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter
And that’s the guy y’all chose to name your company after?
Put it together, I rock hoes, y’all rock fellas
And now y’all try to take my spot, fellas?
Feel these hot rocks fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas
In a pine box with nine shots from my gloc, fellas
Foxy got you hot ’cause you kept your face in her puss
What you think, you gettin’ girls now ’cause of your looks?
Negro please
You no mustache havin’ with whiskers like a rat
Compared to Beans you wack
And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame
You ass, went from Jaz to hangin’ with Kane, to Irv, to Big
And Eminem murdered you on your own shit
You a dick ridin’ faggot, you love the attention
Queens niggas run you niggas, ask Russell Simmons
R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick
J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick
Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick
Sean Carter to Jay-Z, damn you on Jaz dick
So little shorty’s gettin’ gunned up and clapped quick
How much of Biggie’s rhymes is gon’ come out your fat lips?
Wanted to be on every last one of my classics
You pop shit, apologize, nigga, just ask Kiss
9. Illmatic/ The World Is Yours
Another classic verse from a classic song off a classic album. This verse embodies the struggle and shows the dark side of the streets of New York City and finds Nas taking every well-deserved opportunity to brag about his rhyming abilities.
I sip the Dom P, watchin Gandhi ’til I’m charged
Then writin’ in my book of rhymes, all the words pass the margin
To hold the mic I’m throbbin’, mechanical movement
Understandable smooth shit that murderers move with
The thief’s theme, play me at night, they won’t act right
The fiend of hip-hop has got me stuck like a crack pipe
The mind activation, react like I’m facin’ time like
Pappy Mason with pens I’m embracin’
Wipe the sweat off my dome, spit the phlegm on the streets
Suede Tims on my feets, makes my cypher, complete
Whether crusin’ in a Sikh’s cab, or Montero Jeep
I can’t call it, the beats make me fallin’ asleep
I keep fallin’, but never fallin’ six feet deep
I’m out for presidents to represent me
I’m out for presidents to represent me
I’m out for dead presidents to represent me
10. Breakin’ Atoms/ Main Source f/ Nas, Fatal, Akinyele
This is the verse that started it all off. It’s hard to imagine that one verse could kick start an epic career like the one Nas has had. As far as the lyrics themselves, “when I was 12, I went to hell for snuffin’ Jesus.” Need I say more?
Street’s disciple, my raps are trifle
I shoot slugs from my brain just like a rifle
Stampede the stage, I leave the microphone split
Play Mr. Tuffy while I’m on some Pretty Tone shit
Verbal assassin, my architect pleases
When I was twelve, I went to hell for snuffin’ Jesus
Nasty Nas is a rebel to America
Police murderer, I’m causin’ hysteria
My troops roll up with a strange force
I was trapped in a cage and let out by the Main Source
Swimmin’ in women like a lifeguard
Put on a bulletproof nigga I strike hard
Kidnap the President’s wife without a plan
And hangin’ niggas like the Ku Klux Klan
I melt mics ’til the sound waves over
Before steppin’ to me you’d rather step to Jehovah
Slammin’ MC’s on cement
Cause verbally, I’m iller than a AIDS patient
I move swift and uplift
Your mind shoot the gift when I rip and rhyme
Rappin’ sniper, speakin’ real words
My thoughts react like Steven Spielberg’s
Poetry attacks, paragraphs punch hard
My brain is insane, I’m out to lunch God
Science is dropped, my raps are toxic
My voicebox locks and excels like a rocket
Article By: Jon DaBove
