Gary Byrd - Halftime lyrics

[Produced by Large Professor] [Intro] Check me out, y'all Nasty Nas in your area About to cause ma** hysteria [Verse 1] Before I blunt, I take out my fronts Then I start to front; matter of fact, I be on a manhunt You couldn't catch me in the streets without a ton of reefer That's like Malcolm X catching the Jungle Fever King poetic; too much flavor, I'm major Atlanta ain't Brave-r, I'll pull a number, like a pager ‘Cause I'm an ace when I face the ba** 40-side is the place that is giving me grace Now wait, another dose and you might be dead And I'm a Nike-head, I wear chains that excite the Feds And ain't a damn thing gonna change I'm a performer, strange So the mic warmer was born to gain Nas, why did you do it? You know You got the mad-phat fluid when you rhyme; it's halftime [Hook] It's halftime This is how it feel Check it out, how it feel [Verse 2] It's like that, you know it's like that I got it hemmed, now you never get the mic back When I attack, there ain't an army that could strike back So I react never calmly on a hype track I set it off with my own rhyme ‘Cause I'm as ill as a convict who k**s for phone time I'm max like ca**ettes, I flex like s** In your stereo sets, Nas'll catch wreck I used to hustle; now all I do is relax and strive When I was young I was a fan of the Jackson 5 I drop j**els, wear j**els, hope to never run it With more kicks than a baby in a mother's stomach Nasty Nas has to rise, ‘cause I'm wise This is exercise 'til the microphone dies Back in '83 I was an MC sparkin' But I was too scared to grab the mics in the parks, and Kick my little raps ‘cause I thought n***as wouldn't understand And now in every jam I'm the f**in' man I rap in front of more n***as than in the slave ships I used to watch "CHiPs", now I load Glock clips I got to have it, I miss Mr. Magic Versatile, my style switches, like a f*ggot But not bis**ual; I'm an intellectual Of rap I'm a professional, and that's no question, yo These are the lyrics of the man You can't near it, understand? ‘Cause in the streets I'm well-known, like the number man Am I in place with the ba** and format? Explore rap and tell me, "Nas ain't all that." And next time I rhyme, I be foul Whenever I freestyle I see trial, n***as say I'm wild I hate a rhyme-biter's rhyme Stay tuned, Nas soon; the real rap comes at halftime [Hook] It's halftime This is how it feel Check it out, how it feel [Verse 3] I got it going on, even flip a morning song Every afternoon, I kick half the tune And in the darkness, I'm heartless, like when the NARC's hit Word to Marcus Garvey; I hardly sparked it ‘Cause when I blast the herb, that's my word I be slayin' them fast, doing this that and the third But chill, pa** the Andre, and let's slay I bag b**hes up at John Jay, and hit a matinee Putting hits on 5-0 ‘Cause when it's my time to go, I wait for God with the .44 And biters can't come near And yo, go to hell to the foul cop who shot Garcia I won't plant seeds Don't need an extra mouth I can't feed That's extra Phillie change, more cash for damp weed This goes out to Manhattan, the island of Staten Brooklyn and Queens is living fat, and The Boogie Down, enough props, enough clout Ill Will, rest in peace! Yo, I'm out