Nas - “No beef or rivals, they playin’ ‘Ether’ on TIDAL/Brothers can do anything when they decide to/In a Range Rover, dissecting bars from ‘Takeover’/Sometimes I text Hova like, ‘Nigga, this ain’t over,’ laughin’,” he raps. At the time “Takeover” and “Ether” were released over 20 years ago, streaming services—let alone one owned by rappers—weren’t a thing. But the beef between Jay-Z and Esco very much was. Following the release of “Ether,” Hov unloaded “Supa Ugly,” a scathing rebuttal with a line so heinous his own mother had him call into Hot 97 to make an apology.
With their beef long-since resolved, Nas and Jigga can joke about the conflict, a reward for making it out to the other side—and thriving at that. In the merciless world of hip-hop, where rap stars die too young and survivors can fade into the abyss of an evolving music industry, that’s not so common. Nas is a phenomenon; a portrait of success as an MC who’s as prolific in middle age as he was during his youth. It’s a status he’s more than comfortable with on King’s Disease III, a project that marks his fourth Hit-Boy joint album.
Nas a master of perspective, as wise as the old owl. Toward the middle of his new song “Thun,” he serves up a lucid glimpse into the past and present, threading a historic rap battle with aspiration and themes of personal and cultural evolution. The Queensbridge poet balances playful self-mythology with mortality, telling tales of block battles, ex-lovers, actualized ambitions, and outcomes that have yet to play out. He’s sharing stories while reveling in the fact that he’s survived to tell them. While parts of it can get monotonous and he can veer off into didactics, it’s a reminder of why the 49-year-old remains one of rap’s most enduring figures. The best parts of the LP see Nas lace nostalgic production with couplets that can oscillate between searing and paternal, connecting them with writerly details and spurts of steely-eyed sincerity. On “Ghetto Reporter,” he jumps from celebratory flexes to career existentialism, unspooling vignettes of his own success and the derailed dreams of artists who weren’t so lucky. On “Legit,” he further remembers block-dwellers—more specifically, those who transitioned from the trap to activism. And, coasting over a sample of Mary J. Blige’s “You Remind Me” for “Reminisce,” he pairs his present with his past, recalling memories of illicit dealings as a middle school dropout before comparing himself to an NFL legend who, like Nas, has prolonged his prime. “I went for the cash grab, crack cash was my math class/Fresh white tee, two diamond crosses look like a hashtag/News is fake, never knew I’d soon relate/To Tom Brady going for seven in Tampa Bay,” he raps.
