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INFO - H TO THE O-M-O FREESTYLE

H to the O-M-O Freestyle

de Nas / an -

VERSURI - H TO THE O-M-O FREESTYLE

Ma, I'm sorry who the f*** 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 bl**** 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 s*** 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 b**** 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

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