! BOOK ONE OF THE NAS TRILOGY !
In building 40-16 of Queensbridge North Housing, Nasir Jones steps up as the man of the house. Looking after his mother and brother, Jabari, he's hungry for a way out. His back is against the wall after the loss of hi...
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"Run that back, Black."
I inhaled the weed smoke from the Phillie blunt and blew what was left in my lungs out into the enclosed recording booth. I had been sitting on these rhymes all day and needed to finish recording these last songs for my debut project.
I'd been thinking about naming it something out-the-box. Something that'll make niggas want to stop in the middle of the record store, wonder what it is and what it means and cop that shit.
"Turn the beat up in the cans, yo. I can't feel that shit!" I coughed out over the microphone. Prodigy, Havoc and Raekwon tagged along on the session with me. Rae The God reps Wu and hails from Staten Island.
Though the island doesn't get too much love from boroughs like mine, I still showed love to the God. His lyrics and the rest of Wu's were beyond comprehensible and something I would study myself.
Havoc sat next to the sound engineer, passing his blunt to Prodigy who tied a black paisley bandanna around his temples. The sound engineer gave me the thumbs up to let me know that the sound levels were just right and played the track from the top.
The bass swallowed me whole. It's vibrations sent me to another level. Almost taking me back to the first time I heard my Pops play his own shit for me. Or when he would come home from France with some vinyls and run them on the record player.
This was real Jazz. Not that play shit you hear on the street corners in Time Square. This was the authentic representation of what Jazz is supposed to sound like—what it's supposed to make you feel.
The keys of the pianos created a sonic harmony with the Bassline, causing me to bob my head to the imaginary metronome that was ticking off inside of my mind. I let the production consume me and let whatever was going to be said, flow freely.
"Yeah, yeah! Ayo, black. It's time."
I noticed Prodigy rise to his feet as he stood behind Havoc with his arms folded, watching what I was about to do next.
"I think it's time man. Yeah! Straight out the fuckin' dungeons of rap Where fake niggas don't make it back!"
Raekwon nodded his head to the kicks and snares of the instrumental as he puffed smoke out of his nose like a fire breathing dragon. I let the kick drums hit my chest as I kept speaking my mind.
"I don't know how to start this shit, yo."
I was going to take the cans off of my head but the engineer motioned for me to keep going. Prodigy rolled his wrist in a circle as a way to signal me to keep going also.
I closed my eyes and let the lyrics I had written in my composition notebook possess my body.
"Rappers, I monkey flip 'em with the funky rhythm I be kickin', musician inflictin' composition Of pain, I'm like Scarface sniffin' cocaine Holdin' an M-16, see with the pen I'm extreme Now;"
