• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• Halftime - Nas
• Halftime - KRS-One
• Halftime - Ying Yang Twins
• Halftime - Amy Winehouse
• Halftime - Rehab

(Right..)(Right..)
Check me out y'all, Nasty Nas in your area
About to cause mass hysteria
Before a 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, catchin 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 am ace when I face the bass
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'ma performer (?) show the mic warmer was born to gain
Nas, why did you do it?
You know you got the mad fat fluid when you rhyme, it's halftime
(Right..) It's halftime
(Right..) Aiyyo it's halftime
(Right..) It's halftime
(Right..) Yeah, it's about halftime
This is how it feel, check it out, how it feel
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 kills for phone time
I'm max like cassettes, I flex like sex
in your stereo sets, Nas will 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 jewels, wear jewels, 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 eighty-three I was an MC sparking
But I was too scared to grab the mic's in the park and
kick my little raps cause I thought niggaz wouldn't understand
And now in every jam I'm the fuckin man
I rap in front of more niggaz than in the slave ships
I used to watch C.H.I.P.S., now I load glock clips
I got to have it, I miss Mr. Magic
Versatile, my style switches like a faggot
But not bisexual, 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
Cuz in the streets, I'm well known like the number man
In my place wit the bass 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 niggaz say I'm wow
I hate a rhymebiter's rhyme
Stay tuned, Nas, soon the real rap comes at halftime
(Right..) It's halftime
(Right..) Exhale, check it it's halftime
(Right..) It's halftime
(Right..) It's real in the field
Word life, check it
I got it goin on, even flip 'em on this song
Every afternoon, I kick half the tune
And in the darkness, I'm heartless like when the NARCs 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, past to Andre, and let's slay
I bag bitches up at John Jay, and hit a matinee
Puttin hits on 5-0
Csudr when it's my time to go, I wait for God wit the fo'-fo'
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 that weed
This goes out to Manhattan, the island of Staten
Brooklyn and Queens is livin fat and
The Boogie Down, enough props, enough clout
Ill Will, rest in peace, yo, I'm out
(Right..) It's still halftime
(Right..) To the Queensbridge crew
To the Queensbridge crew, you know it's halftime
(Right..) Ninety-two, it's halftime
(Right..) Yo police, police man, yo let's get ghost

Right now as we rockin they shootin outside
Now we have got to chill
We have got to chill
We can't have no gunfire because hip-hop can't build
Let's leave all the shootin and the violence outside
I know there's some people in here, armed to the teeth
But understand...
It is the conciousness behind the gun
that determines if the gun is positive or negative
So let's not blame it on no pistols, no guns, no gats

Oh, oh
Okay, okay, okay, okay
Hey, I'm trying to get crunk
C R U N K
Tell 'em how we gonna call, crunk
Tell 'em why they don't want none, crunk
Tell 'em why they better run, crunk crunk, crunk
Stand up and get crunk, crunk
Stand up and get crunk, crunk
Here we come to get you, you better get crunk
Here we come to get you, a little bit more crunk
Here we come to get you, you better get crunk
Here we come to get you, a little bit more crunk
Crank it up, that's what we gonna do
Crank you up, me and my brother we came to get crunk
We won't stop, we keep on comin' 'cause
We won't quit, that's why we keep bringin' it
We drop in everything you poppin'
From the Ying Yang Twins again
To make your adrenaline, pump right on through your skin
And make that crunk again, crunk
Two thou, niggaz playin' of them
But we came on back 'cause we needed to win
We jumped out like a Jack and a Russel
Like I added with fag doing sack in my sock
Tell 'em how we gonna call, crunk
Tell 'em why they don't want none, crunk
Tell 'em why they better run, crunk crunk, crunk
Stand up and get crunk, crunk
Stand up and get crunk, crunk
Here we come to get you, you better get crunk
Here we come to get you, a little bit more crunk
Here we come to get you, you better get crunk
Here we come to get you, a little bit more crunk
Okay, okay, okay, okay
Ladies and gentlemen
If you haven't had enough
You better hide you lunch
'Cause, we 'bout to eat that ass up
Crunk, crunk, crunk, crunk
Crunk, crunk, crunk, crunk
Eat they ass up, oh
Eat they ass up, oh
Eat they ass up, oh
Eat they ass up, oh
Eat they ass up, oh
Eat they ass up, oh
Eat they ass up, oh
Eat they ass up, oh
Okay, okay, okay, okay
Stand up and get crunk
Stand up and get crunk
Here we come to get you, you better get crunk
Here we come to get you, a little bit more crunk
Here we come to get you, you better get crunk
Here we come to get you, a little bit more crunk
People all ova the world jump
Everybody in the bleachers get crunk
Listen here buddy this ain't what you want
Blue fifty-two, break, duck
DY go left while I'm fakin' the K
When I'm done you gonna remember my name
It's H O M E bwoi, look I'm home bwoi
Now that I'm up in my zone bwoi
Pack up, I'm sendin' you home bwoi
Take you up outta the dome bwoi
If you didn't know you should of known bwoi
Should've thought about changin' your tone bwoi
Betta not let us catch you alone bwoi
Crack heads like we made of stone bwoi
You ain't come out you betta be gone bwoi
Tell 'em how we gonna call, crunk
Tell 'em why they don't want none, crunk
Tell 'em why they better run, crunk
Crunk, crunk
Stand up and get crunk, crunk
Stand up and get crunk
Here we come to get you, you better get crunk
Here we come to get you, a little bit more crunk
Here we come to get you, you better get crunk

simple, sweet guitar
humbled by the bass
when the beat kicks in
everything falls in to place
and it overpowers me
i can't help but dance
you can try to stop me now
but you won't get the chance
half time, time to make it through
consider the change
see it from a different view
half time, time to think it through
consider the change
rhythm floods my heart
the melody it feeds my soul
the tune tears me apart
and it swallows me whole
you should thank your lucky stars
cause the music is a gift
and it's stronger than all else
provides me with a bliss.
half time, time to think it through
consider the change
half time, time to think it through
consider the change
my lyrics reveling
some natural vibe
to find the lay back feeling
does that it right
every phrase Sinatra sings
it's too much to say, yeah
so i sing this endless sheet
it pacifies my ache
half time, time to think it through
consider the change
half time, time to think it through

Chuck Janke (Brooks Buford): Well, itâ? s been a hell of a game thus far, Wink.
Wink Dinkerson (Danny Boone): Yeah, it sure has Chuck. You know, Brooks Buford was a three-time white chip All-American at Alberta Baptist Technical School for the Blind.
CJ: Hmmm. Wow!
WD: Heâ? s like a nine-dicked weasel.
CJ: You know, also, Danny Boone, he got drafted straight outta Motherfuck U.
WD: Huh?
CJ: They said he majored in kickinâ? ass.
WD: Yeah! I heard he made the fiendâ? s list!
(Laughter)
CJ: Gosh darn it, Wink, you sure do crack yourself up, donâ? t â? cha? Well, for the halftime show we have a group called Rehab.
WD: Ahhh!
CJ: Apparently, theyâ? re gonna perform with the Dixie Demon marching band and the cheerleaders and some guy named â? Killerâ? something or another or something.
WD: Jumpinâ? jehosephat! Where does the school find these assholes?
CJ: Who knows, Wink, probably a used condom!
(Laughter)