The Stretch Armstrong and Bobbito Show on WKCR October 28, 1993 - Nas, Jungle, Grand Wizard

I wanna give a shout-out to my man Premo, you know?

From Gang Starr, no doubt

Lil' Dap, Jeru, Melachi, the whole crew (Foundation)

Queensbridge Crew, forty busters, shorty busters

Vernon Posse, Good Fellas, you know how that go

My man Ill Will rest in peace forever, God

Tragedy, MC Shan and the whole crew, you know how that go

Marley Marl, and my man Big Bo locked up in the piece

And my man Drawz, you know

(Big Mayo chillin', loungin' at the crib, check it out now)

The, the mic is open, yo

On the Stretch Armstrong showw, hosted by Bobbitooooooo

How should I start this?

How should I begin, to sin?

Grab the microphone and my rhymes’ll win

Wheel of Fortune, spin, around

Check it out, I’m not a rap clown

Get smacked down by the fuckin' four pound in your dome

Hit you with the nick plate chrome

Queensbridge, that’s my motherfuckin' home

Off the top of my head, yo, I’m a blunt head

Police… Police want a nigga dead

But I’m not goin' out like that, black

I kick the actual facts in solar

Cold as a Polar Bear, I swear, word to Will

But I’mma chill, rhymes’ll kill

Niggas know the style when I freak the profile

Asiatic Child, yo

Grand Wizard on the side of me

Get on the mic and bless the M-I-C

Ayio, but I’mma pass it off to my man Six-Nine

Kick it one time

Hey, yo, Six-Nine a true to life nigga

Yo, my style is iller, iller than Halle Berry’s figure

Niggas don’t fuck with the Six-Niner

Shorty, watch your mouth, I smack you back in your vagina

Here’s the reefer, crack the Sunrise Tequila

Kill the Margarita, here’s a 50, get some more cheeba

The ghetto trooper, so spark up the Bu-Buddha

My thoughts’ll stay nasty like the underground sewers

To be the man, you gotta beat the man

It ain’t nothin' startin' over here but nothin' mark my Timberlands

You want static?

Let’s have it

Niggas who flow like the Atlantic will sink like the Titanic

Since birth, I was thinkin' too fast

My first beef was with the doctor when he smacked me on my ass

The trigger man, I’m crazy like Sam

My skill’s so ill like a white chick with a suntan

Check it out now

One for the money, two for pussy and foreign cars

Three for Alize, niggas deceased or behind bars

I rap divine, God, check the prognosis: is it real or showbiz?

My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses

Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real

A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja

Here’s my basis: my razor embraces many faces

Your telephone blown, black, stitches or fat shoelaces

Peoples are petro, dramatic, automatic .44 I let blow

And back down po-po when I’m vexed, so

My pen taps the paper then my brain’s blank

I see dark streets, hustlin' brothers who keep the same rank

Pumpin' for somethin', some’ll prosper, some fail

Judges hangin' niggas, uncorrect bails for direct sales

My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross with nails

I reinforce the frail with lyrics that’s real

Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats

But, chill!

Bless the microphone and say peace

So, Sudan, take the microphone in your hand

Kick the flim flam

So, check it out

I’m gonna give a strong shout-out, this is to my man Will

A little somethin' I done wrote up for my man Will

It goes somethin' like this, it’s called Rock-a-bye Homeboy

Check it out

Queensbridge, when will the drama ever cease?

I’d like to say peace, Willie, and rest in peace

A cool brother who’s all about justice

I still can’t understand how he left us

Well… he’s gone and life goes on, you know

We had a crew, but one by one we go

Memories of his face that was full of joy

Rock-a, Rock-a bye, Rock-a bye homeboy

Reminiscin' with the brothers standin' on the block

Never talked a lot, never was a big shot

It’s so hard to say goodbye, a sad song

And damn, I can’t believe my man’s gone

Diggin' back in the days when we used to laugh

Now its a memory that’s haunted from the past

Poor Willy, its a shame how the ghetto got him

And word is bond — I wanna cry when I think about him

Three bullets to his back on his own block

Not a way to go, killed by the buckshot

Queensbridge, wake and up and smell the air

And stop killin' like a villain, like you don’t care

Remember Willie and the times we had with joy?

Rock-a, Rock-a bye, Rock-a bye Homeboy

Rock-a, Rock-a bye, Rock-a bye Homeboy

Quensbridge style!

Rock-a, Rock-a bye

My skills are ill like the prez with a plan

My brothers run from Sudan then the Ku-Klux-Klan

Like a kamikaze, Saddam Hussein then won

Feel the buns of a nun, put tricks for funds and chill (Wooo-ooooh)

I spill a verse so you can understand

I kill rappers off quicker than a motherfuckin' Mic Man

And when it comes to a battle, I stand out tall

Like the man who played the man on The White Shadow

One two, one two

What you gonna do when the flavour’s comin' after you?

Grand Wizard, take my side

Grab the microphone and I’mma rock it up like…

To my man Jungle, dwellin' in the jungle

Where must we go?

Where must we wander?

Deep out the skies come the MC Nas

Not to surprise, but to civilize

All the dumb men wanderin' around the streets

Listenin' to a nigga rappin' on fly beats

I just kick the mad Phillie style

Get buckwild 'cause you know my style

I could run a word, kick it to a herd

Make 'em turn into a rich man, increase the plan

The master plan, yo, I’m buggin' out

'Cause the weed got me buggin', plus the Guinness Stout

Grand Wizard, yo, you my physical

Why don’t you mic the make, make the microphone miserable?

It’s the G, the G, the G, the G, the Wiz

You know that our culture’s gone get theirs

I got my man Nasty on the side of me

My man Six-Nine, you know we’re not hidin', G

I am the man that’ll break it down

I’ll break it all down 'cause I got the sound

I got Queensbridge backin' me

The Tec and everythin', I’m comin' strapped, G

It’s like that, check it out, uh huh

Yo, check it out, y’all

Money and murder, money and murder

The sick shit you heard comin' from my motherfuckin', my swerve

The words are poetic

I sound energetic when I’m blunted or Moët'd

My microphone’s upsetted 'cause I’m crazy

Now you know, never lazy

Yo, I’m gonna get all the cash I can

Don’t give a fuck if I gotta shoot a policeman

Pluckin' a church and snatch a fuckin'…

Nah, can’t be flippin' like that

'Cause you niggas try to jock the style

But I left that shit to get the new shit to flow like the Nile

Now you can’t catch up, G

'Cause I got the new styles on the M-I-C

I keep gettin' newer, can’t step to a

Nigga from the Bridge, so, you keep that shit

And I’mma flip the script next year

And my real name is Nasir

Can’t spell it 'cause I say it too clear

The alphabets are not enough words or letters to use

When it comes to mics, I bruise

I just go with the magical mystic flow

Niggas don’t know, that’s word to the man Bo

I get Illmatic with the style that’s insane

Comin' out a fuckin' murderer’s brain

Grand Wizard, please take this mic from me

Before I bug the fuck out and wind up D-A-E-D

Wait, D-E-A-D, I’m buggin', fuck that shit