You're da Man - Live at Webster Hall, NYC - Dec. 17, 2002

This that Stillmatic, y'all
This for my ladies at the bar
This my Stillmatic shit

They plan was to knock me out the top of the game
But I overstand, they truth is all lame
I spit that shoot balls of flame
Right in they fat mouth then I carve my name

Nas, too real, Nas, true king
It's however you feel, go 'head, you swing
Your arms too short to box with God
I don't kill soloists, only kill squads

Fame went to they head, so now it's "Fuck Nas?"
Yesterday you begged for a deal, today you tough guys?

I seen it coming
Soon as I popped my first bottle
I spotted my enemies tryna do what I do

Came in with my style, so I fathered you
I kept changing on the world since "Barbeque"
Now you wanna hang with bitches I hung with
Fuck bitches I hit, it's funny I once said

If I, ever make a record, I take a cheque
And put something away for a rainy day to make my exit
But look at me now, ten years deep
From the project bench to cracks in my sock, asleep

I never asked to be top of rap's elite
Just a ghetto child tryna learn the crafts of the streets
But look at me now

You're the man, you're the man
You're the man, you're the man
You're the man