Yeah yeah aiyyo black it's time (word?) 
(Word it's time [bad word] ) 
Yeah it's time man (aight [bad word] begin) 
Yeah straight out the [bad word] dungeons of rap 
Where fake niggaz don't make it back 
I don't know how to start this [bad word] yo now 

Verse One: Nas 

Rappers I monkey flip em with the funky rhythm I be kickin 
Musician [bad word] 
of pain I'm like Scarface sniffin cocaine 
Holdin a M-16, see with the pen I'm extreme, now 
Bulletholes 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 celo champs 
Laughin at baseheads, tryin to sell some broken amps 
G-Packs get off quick, forever niggaz talk [bad word] 
Remeniscing about the last time the Task Force flipped 
Niggaz [bad word] 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 
Pick the Mac up, told brothers, "Back up," the Mac spit 
Lead was hittin niggaz 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 [bad word] is stuck 
Try to [bad word] 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 whatchu sayin?) It's like the game ain't the same 
Got younger niggaz pullin the triggers bringing fame to they name 
and claim some corners, crews without guns are goners 
In broad daylight, stickup kids, [bad word] up on us 
Fo'-fives and gauges, Macs in fact 
Same niggaz'll catch a back to back, snatchin yo' cracks in black 
There was a snitch on the block gettin niggaz 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 niggaz 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 

("New York state of mine" --> Rakim *repeat 4X*) 

Verse Two: Nas 

Be havin dreams that I'ma gangster -- drinkin Moets, holdin Tecs 
Makin sure the cash came correct then I stepped 
Investments in stocks, sewein up the blocks 
to sell rocks, winnin gunfights with mega cops 
But just a [bad word]  walking with his finger on the trigger 
Make enough figures until my pockets get bigger 
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin 
Give me a Smith and Wessun I'll have niggaz undressin 
Thinkin of cash flow, buddah and shelter 
Whenever [bad word] I'ma hijack Delta 
In the P.J.'s, my blend tape plays, bullets are strays 
Young [bad word] is grazed each block is like a maze 
full of black rats trapped, plus the Island is packed 
From what I hear in all the stories when my [bad word] back, black 
I'm livin where the nights is jet black 
The fiends fight to get crack I just max, I dream I can sit back 
and lamp like Capone, with [bad word] scripts sewn 
Or the legal luxury life, rings flooded with stones, homes 
I got so many rhymes I don't think I'm too sane 
Life is parallel to [bad word] but I must maintain 
and be prosperous, though we live dangerous 
cops could just arrest me, blamin us, we're held like hostages 
It's only right that I was born to use mics 
and the stuff that I write, is even