The Season Lyrics by Nas
United States in fear
London knows I'm a phantom, South Korea knows I'm here
Posted, planted without exception
Rise to your feet for this gravity
Nas and Dilla beat, the fly soliloquy
Some real nigga talkin'
This don't happen too often, take precaution
Liars and frauds got you exhausted
You've been accosted
Who told you've I lost it?
I just put it down for a second, damn
Can the king lounge for a second, kick his hooves up?
Grow stubble on the face for once without a smooth cut?
Grow a little gut, can't even enjoy the fruit of my labor
Before they call me Luke and hand me my lightsaber
The ruler's back, you can tell by the trumpets
Prince of Wales sent me tea, biscuits, crumpets
Jewelry cost more than the car, car cost 200
Get out your chair, the season of Nasir
This is the season
Jay Elec doesn't write it
HOV couldn't write it, he vacationin'
Jungle the only brother I take shit from
Hassan give me lines, we talk all the time
So I guess if he inspired my song it ain't mine
Let me make this clear, they fear the gifted
Some say Shakespeare never existed
Wow, now, look at the amount of resistance
Attempts to chisel my face, from the mountain you guessed it
Bitch you guessed it
There, did I answer your questions?
So, now that's out the way let's get back to my message
Now I'm 40 and a little change
Ride around, sport a new Benz, a little Range
Havin' fun, my little man gettin' big
He and my daughter down, when we talk it's real
Nothin' is watered down, young boy swag
I'm here today as well as the 90's
But the past life, my ass is behind me
Ignite the pyrex
Try to bite this, get Nasty Nas-itis
Arthritis when you try to write this
Asking why is the Feds at my niggas?
Why the Feds at my niggas?
I know by now I should be talkin' bread, crack, and figures
But not stressin', not stressin'
I'm survivin', I'm survivin'
It's funny when I catch cops textin' and drivin'
Who questions and penalizes them?
One day we'll have their ass in court and we'll be tryin' them
Hey yo, it's love for Detroit, Mo-Town, Motor City
Dilla lives on, it's like he wrote it with me
The soulful sample complements my rhyme so well
Slacks by Zegna, or YSL
Matchin' the Saint Laurents, I'm fly as hell
Hands in the air, the season of Nasir
Yeah, It's that time, yeah, Dilla rest in peace, what up Detroit?
Fly ladies, dope dealers and killers
Worldwide, NY, yeah, yeah, the season, yeah, this is the season