The NBA’s Lost Tapes

05.24.11 6 years ago 4 Comments
The Lost Tapes

Damn, fewer things are more disappointing than finding out Lost Tapes 2 probably won’t happen, or at least won’t be happening any time soon. Within the past week, NaS finally put to rest the rumors, admitting that his label, Def Jam, kind of killed the rhythm. So a new album is in the works, but Lost Tapes 2 is out the window.

With that, lets take a look back at the original Lost Tapes. Whether you consider it an album or not, the joints on there are nearly all perfect. The amazing thing about QB’s Finest is that he can take a topic and flip it in so many ways. You end up with a collection of songs that all have their specific meanings, and can all hold up on their own nearly nine years later.

So lets go through them, one-by-one, a trip down memory lane, and see which NBA players should be feeling which songs the most.

*** *** ***

1. Doo Rags
The doo rags are back, fitted hats, snorkels and furs
Riker’s Island buses still packed, what’s the word?
The drinkers stay drinkin, or puffin they herb
And I’m, still enjoyin life’s ride; right?

NaS kicks it off as only he can: reminiscing, the ultimate sit-back-watch-and-relay rapper. The poet. Times change and so do people, but sometimes circumstances don’t. NaS is chilling, looking at all that he’s affected, happy, checking out all these imitators, probably feeling like Kevin Garnett watching all these wannabe inside-and-out stretch fours of the new generation.

2. My Way
Respect all, fear none, my pride is everything
Initials in swimming pools floors, women lose draws
A true boss, never lose wars, got cheddar to floss

Diesel, is that you?

3. You Gotta Love It
Some girls get too emotional, fanatic extremist
Get pulsive with malice insentitives, the foulest of b@#$%^&
Hung up my riches, her childest wishes
Be suspicious of those sleeping with fishes, them hoes
Conspicuous and it shows, tricking this dough

For good or bad, NaS has been his own man for nearly 20 years in hip-hop. Sometimes we wish he didn’t act so funny (dumping terrible beats on albums, passing on others, never working again with Premier) but that’s just him. It’s who he is. Deep down, we still love him, just wish he could be more like others, just the same as LeBron. A seven-year love affair murdered by one summer swoon and now we don’t want anything to do with him. F$%^ it, you gotta love it.

4. Nothing Lasts Forever
Today is yesterday look at the hood now, I’m mad that it turned out that way
Gats spray these shorties is killers
The older G’s taught us well, what’s wild now is that they’re smaller
And they look at me like I’m on the outside lookin’ in
Like ‘who’s you’ when I cruise through
I call shorty took him in watch your friends, get ends
be clever, realize that today’s the first day that begins forever

Nothing lasts forever. Funny, as NaS has transitioned into a new generation, he’s still kept his place atop the game. Untitled, Distant Relatives…classic. That’s the beauty of life. You gotta savor your moments, savor your talent, use it to better yourself and when it starts to fade away, find ways to prolong it. Yeah, I’m talking to you, Kobe.

5. No Idea’s Original
Let’s witness, the horrific, the stench’ll make you nauseous
See what I seen every day I live with this torture

NaS lost a best friend before he ever made it big, and had to live with it for the rest of his life, his boy leaving before he could see the success. Nothing’s original because it’s never what you do, but how it’s done. Every basketball player has ghosts, ugly ghosts of the past nibbling at their ankles. It’s about learning to live with them. It’s about learning to push through years of disaster, learning to cope as Dirk has.

6. Blaze A 50
sit back in a droptop Bezour Bently.
of course wit me, this chick who’d make Bobby divorce Whitney.
top down, nightmare, blow her hair
sky black, stars glow, the face on the moon stare.
fast lane on the nine-five, honey laughs about the cash.
took a blast, out of her coke bag.

Everyone has their guilty pleasures. They start running sprints around your brain, never dissipating, never leaving. It’s right there, just out of reach. All you have to do is act on it. Then, the feeling becomes real. Then, you start ignoring your star player, eyes growing big at every open 15-footer, forgetting what makes it all tick, forgetting you’re Russell Westbrook for a reason, and that reason isn’t jumpers with 20 seconds left on the shot clock.

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