Nas – I Am…

The sequel to one of Illmatic's defining tracks was always a risky move, and Nas mostly earns it. DJ Premier returns with a beat built from ominous piano and the same kind of tense, cinematic atmosphere that made the original untouchable, and Nas responds with a verse that updates the Queensbridge narratives for 1999: the paranoia is about fame and enemies in the industry now, not just the streets, but the eye for detail remains sharp. The technical skill is there, the flow is there, and the writing holds up next to the original without embarrassing itself. This is the kind of sequel that justifies its existence, a song that stands on its own while nodding to what came before. The album peaks here and never gets back to this level.

The lead single is built around a sample from Carl Orff's Carmina Burana, a bombastic orchestral backdrop that Nas uses to address his critics and defend his success. The beat is loud and aggressive, designed for arenas and music video sets, and it works as a pure spectacle. Puff Daddy's verse is unnecessary and adds nothing to the song's concept—he is here because he was a commercial draw in 1999, not because the song needed him. The Hype Williams video caused controversy for its crucifixion imagery, and the song became a hit, but the music itself is more effective as a statement of defiance than as a piece of writing. It is one-note, but the note is loud enough to make an impact.

Nas constructs a story about crossing paths with an old partner who turned informant, and the writing is specific enough to work as narrative rather than just threat. The production from the Hitmen is soft-focus and melodic, too polished for the subject matter, but Nas keeps the energy up with a flow that moves through the verses without stopping for air. The song does not reinvent the wheel, but it is a solid piece of storytelling with enough detail to make the characters feel real. One of the album's better mid-tier tracks.

Scarface shows up for a duet about loyalty and betrayal, and both rappers deliver workmanlike verses over a L.E.S. beat that sounds like a dozen other beats from 1999. The writing is competent but generic—threats, street codes, the usual material—and Scarface's verse does not add a new perspective or elevate the concept. This is the kind of song that fills space on a too-long album without offering a reason to return to it. Functional but forgettable.

The tribute to Tupac and Biggie doubles as a shot at Jay-Z, with Nas taking aim at rappers who claimed New York's crown after Biggie's death. The song has been cited as an early salvo in the Nas versus Jay-Z feud, and the writing makes the targets clear even without naming them directly. The production from Trackmasters is somber and string-heavy, appropriate for a eulogy, but the track never builds to the emotional weight the subject deserves. Nas is more interested in settling scores than in mourning, and the result is a song that feels more like positioning than tribute. Historically significant, musically flat.

Dame Grease delivers a thumping, hard-edged beat and Nas responds with a verse about incarceration, systemic injustice, and the cycle of poverty that feeds the prison system. The writing has moments of real insight, and the production gives Nas the kind of urgent backdrop that brings out his best instincts. But the song is too short, and it ends just as it starts to build momentum. One of the album's stronger tracks, but it needed another minute to fully develop its ideas.

Timbaland's production is immediately recognizable: the off-kilter percussion, the stuttering hi-hats, the empty space in the mix that makes every sound hit harder. Aaliyah provides the hook and she is the best guest on the album, her voice adding a vulnerability that the song requires. Nas tells a story about a man planning to leave a relationship, and the writing is detailed enough to make the scenario feel lived-in rather than hypothetical. The song works as a showcase for all three contributors, and it is one of the few moments on I Am where the production, the guest, and the concept all serve the same goal. A standout.

Nas addresses a woman, possibly a love interest or a mother figure, over a L.E.S. beat that is too polished and too soft to create any tension. The writing is vague, full of generalities about communication and understanding, and the song never lands on a specific image or a concrete detail that would give the concept weight. This is Nas reaching for introspection and coming up with greeting card sentiment. Filler.

This track is not on the provided tracklist and does not appear on the standard release of I Am.

A two-and-a-half-minute skit about sexual conquests, delivered with a smirk and no real writing. Nas runs through a series of boasts about women and positions, the Trackmasters provide a funk loop, and the whole thing feels like a leftover from a 1997 album that should have stayed in the vault. Completely skippable.

DMX shows up for a duet about survival and self-determination, and both rappers deliver competent verses over a L.E.S. beat that sounds like every other mid-tempo track on the album. The writing is full of platitudes—life is hard, you make your own choices, keep your head up—and neither rapper brings enough specificity or energy to make the concept feel urgent. DMX's growled delivery does not fit the song's reflective tone, and the result is a mismatch that goes nowhere. Another track that exists to fill time.

Nas reflects on success and ambition over a muted, keyboard-driven beat that has no momentum. The writing is broad and unfocused, full of references to wealth and status but light on the kind of detail that would make the observations stick. The song feels like a rough draft, an idea that needed more time in the studio before it was ready to be recorded. One of the album's weakest moments.

DJ Premier's second contribution is the album's centerpiece and its best track, a showcase for both Nas' technical skill and Premier's ability to build a beat from drums and scratches. Premier cuts up vocal samples from It Ain't Hard to Tell and constructs a hypnotic loop that gives Nas room to operate, and Nas responds with some of the sharpest writing on the album: vivid imagery, internal rhyme schemes, wordplay that rewards close listening. The song works as pure craft, two masters of their respective disciplines pushing each other to deliver their best work. This is the standard the rest of I Am needed to meet, and it is the song that keeps the album from being a complete disappointment. Essential.

Nas tells a story about a woman who plays both sides of a conflict, and the writing has enough detail to work as narrative. The production from L.E.S. and Alvin West is competent but uninspired, another mid-tempo track that blends into the background. The song is solid but unremarkable, the kind of track that would have been a highlight on a weaker album but gets lost in the middle of this one.

Nas reflects on wealth and its relationship to power, and the writing is more focused than most of the album's other money-talk tracks. The Trackmasters production is polished and radio-friendly, built around a looped vocal sample and a soft bassline, and Nas delivers the verses with enough energy to keep the song from sagging. Not a standout, but a competent closer to the album's main body.

The album's final track is a story-rap about obsession and murder, told from the perspective of a man who kills for a woman and ends up betrayed. The writing is detailed and the narrative is clear, and L.E.S. provides a dark, minimal beat that serves the concept. But the idea is not new—Nas already explored similar territory on It Was Written's Shootouts, and this version does not add enough to justify the retread. A solid piece of storytelling that arrives too late in a too-long album to make the impact it needs.