Okay, old head. Maybe you are still nice.
Allow me to paint the picture for you.
It's about 90 degrees, and you and your friends are drenched in sweat from playing basketball at your local outdoor court. A man in about his mid-40s, wearing full Nike tech fleece and some Nikes no one can ID, walks to the side where all the bags are placed, calls next and starts stretching.
His hands never go further than mid-calf throughout the stretch, and it looks like his knees gave up on him about two decades ago. Fresh off a win, you and your friends see him as the easy mismatch and expect the game to be nothing more than a 7-0 skunk shootaround in between the actual competition.
Then the game starts.
Without breaking a sweat, the man is one of the best players on the court.
His isos are three dribbles max, yet he always gets to the spot needed to display a textbook jump shot. Those knees that looked retired a few moments ago are now helping him stay one step ahead of every move you try.
Win or lose, the man you thought you'd have to take it easy on earlier just became the player everyone wants to pick up next game. But he never plays more than one game. He shows just enough to earn your respect then disappears, never allowing himself to show his age.
That's Nas on King's Disease.
Nas never breaks a sweat on King's Disease.
Hit-Boy's production on King's Disease isn't as good as Kanye West's production on NASIR.
From the samples to the tempo to the unique sounds, like the scream on "Cops Shot the Kid", the production on NASIR is good enough by itself to make a crowd move, but it didn't leave enough room for Nas to be Nas. It forced Nas to be either be an artist he's not or get drowned out
Imagine the old head baller from earlier being asked to play fullcourt instead of halfcourt. Suddenly, those patented dribble pullups in the midrange aren't available, and he looks out of place and tired on a court with people half his age.
Hit-Boy cut the court in half for Nas, and as a result, Nas delivered a staple third act album.
With complimenting rather than overshadowing production, the iconic Nas flow is put on display throughout the album as Nas is able to comfortably do what earned him his legendary status— tell stories.
From the production to the descriptive lyricism, the first verse of "Blue Benz" is Nas at his best, regardless of age. He describes two completely different situations with the type of vivid imagery that people study years to capture.
But vintage Nas alone isn't what made this album a staple in his career. Vintatge Nas has been done before. Even he says it on "The Cure" with the line, "they said they want the old Nas back, play the Clue Tapes for old verses."
An entire project of memories from yesteryears like the first verse of "Blue Benz" would sound incredible, but it would bring nothing new to the table and probably fall short of his past classics.
King's Disease shines because it's Nas embracing his position as a rap "old head".
He stresses letting go of childhood trauma, gives life and financial advice, addresses generational curses, and preaches Black power throughout the album. On tracks like "Til The War Is Won" it sounds like he's barely rapping, instead just offering advice to the younger Black generation.
In a relatively new genre, it seems the formula for rap's early superstars to age gracefully is to embrace their age and pivot to advice or wisdom albums.
Due to the album's themes and the history between the two rappers, this album will undoubtedly be compared to JAY-Z's 4:44. I hate to be a part of this soon tired comparison, but the bait is too tempting to avoid.
4:44 is a classic because it's the blueprint (no pun intended) of how superstar rappers should age and because JAY-Z fully dove into that blueprint, going as far as doing the literal math of his financial advice at times.
Nas doesn't fully commit to the formula laid out by JAY-Z.
If 4:44 is fully diving into a wisdom-type album, King's Disease is kicking its legs in the water.
As great as most as the feature performances are, only Lil Durk and Anderson .Paak stick to the advising theme of King's Disease.
Then there's the fact that despite being just two minutes longer than 4:44, King's Disease feels too long. Remember how I said one character trait of the old head baller is that they always disappear before they show their age. At 10 tracks 4:44 stayed true to the archetype while King's Disease and its 13 tracks screamed "Gerwin" instead of "Jelly" on a layup during his third game.
Tracks like "The Definition", "Ultra Black", and even the nostalgic "Spicy" weigh a good album down with references and features that don't fit and unconcentrated bars.
Final Score: Low 7/10
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