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Nas – The Season (Lyrics)

[Verse 1] 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

[Hook] (Da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da)

The season

(Da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da)

This is the season

(Da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da)

The season

(Da-da-da-da-da

Da-da-da-da-da)

[Verse 2] Jay Elec doesn’t write it

HOV couldn’t write it, he vacationin’

Jungle the only brother I take shit from 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

[Hook] [Outro] 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

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