"Arms open cause they know when I drop a lot of shit gone stop, see how the government'll start retraining cops."
June 2011
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Madison Square Garden
The loud bass from the subwoofers on the stage caused the man's head to bounce. The beat was familiar to him, he had heard it a million times. His nerves started to get to him. His hands jittery moving at his sides. The styrofoam cup of Hennessy had been removed from his hand being instead replaced with a microphone. Fiddling with the earpiece in his right ear the stage hand checked the battery pack to ensure it was turned on and working correctly. The crowd was boisterous tonight; this was the first time he had performed in 8 years. He missed this feeling, nothing else could make him feel nervous yet calm at the same time. His hand passed through his signature caesar haircut with the half moon sharply etched in the top portion of his curly hair the dark Tom Ford sunglasses shielding his eyes from the bright purple beams of light shooting from the area behind the DJ booth. His eyes scanned the layout stopping at his name lit in neon lighting 3 letters NAS. He had gone by another name in his younger years but he eventually shortened it to the 3 letters which had worked out well for him in the end.
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"What the fuck is up New York?!" He yelled into the microphone sauntering onto the stage. His raspy voice caressing the ears of the people in the stands. "It feels good being back home, ya'll always show me mad love." The cheers and screams in the crowd slightly overwhelming him like they always did. The DJ stretched the beat until he was ready to begin the song. "Yeah,straight out the fucking dungeons of rap Where fake niggas don't make it back."
He paused and let the intro carry itself out slowly bopping his head. His diamond encrusted QB chain glistening in the neon lights he licked his lips and placed the mic to his lips as the beat came to an opening.
"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 M16 see, with the pen I'm extreme Now, bullet holes left in my peepholes I'm suited up in street clothes hand me a 9 and I'll defeat foes.
