“Fried Chicken” takes the timeless tradition of comparing black women to the treasured part of southern cuisine and stretches it across almost three minutes.
But the album’s strongest moment is also its silliest. Untitleddragged from how Nas’ overserious focus fell apart from the poor production and his weakened pen. “Fried Chicken” feat. Busta Rhymes ( Untitled, 2008) The compactness of his delivery symbolizes the tragic setting: This is all happening within young Nasir’s purview.
The realities - homicides, adults whose stories of ‘70s excess are hidden inside their ravaged bodies, violative police - are given in a barrage, but Nas’ focus never gets loss within the madness. “Project Windows” pays homage to this with the help of Ronald Isley’s mournful cries. “Project Windows” feat. Ronald Isley ( Nastradamus, 1999)īefore it became a Hennessy commercial premise, Nas’ observational skills came directly from his upbringing: He witnessed the hood’s drama from his Queensbridge project windows. But the line “You don’t know what you feel, y’all too safe” sidesteps that critique towards a larger question: Are these stars working on their own accord or for white approval? The counterargument to “These Are Our Heroes” is that Nas’ definition of a strong black man is too narrow (his main example is Scarface). He spends “These Are Our Heroes” taking direct aim at Black figures he deems dishonorable, a list that includes Kobe Bryant following his very public sexual assault case Shirley Temple’s black house maid Bojangles and Cuba Gooding Jr., who plays the “safe black man” in the eyes of many. Nas, the vanguard of realness, was one of them. “These Are Our Heroes” ( Street’s Disciples, 2004)īlack critics were wary of stereotypes during the aughties’ rise of hip-hop and urban culture in the eyes of the white mainstream audience, including in film ( Soul Plane), television ( The Parkers), and sports (hip-hop-influenced style). But at 45, he’s still releasing new albums, investing in small busineses and exercising the creative freedom to rhyme over an Al Jarreau sample. Still, he’s not quite the same all-seeing prodigy fans fell in love with a quarter-century ago - and recent abuse allegations have altered many fans’ relationship with him in a way they never could have guessed at the time. Not only has Nas outlasted nearly every other street rapper from his era, but he’s survived the most famous beef in hip-hop history, that late ‘90s period of his artistic decline, and New York as a whole falling off as the center of rap. That we’re still talking about him with this fervor is something of a miracle. Illmatic is a classic, “Hate Me Now” still rings off in clubs, and he’s enough of an authority to have fans Googling “ Fox News founded by black man” in earnest. There’s no complete discussion of these permutations or most in between without Nas.
There’s rap as literature, rap as pop, rap as grown folks art and rap as weaponry.