(Adds quotes from neighbors)

* No imminent danger, congressmen say

* Focus on one man who met with people in Queens

* Apartment shared by five Afghan men searched - witness

* Militant ideology sympathetic to al Qaeda detected - NYT

By Edith Honan

NEW YORK, Sept 14 (Reuters) - New York City police and the FBI raided homes in the borough of Queens early on Monday as part of an investigation into suspected terrorism, focusing on one man who has been under surveillance, officials said.

Authorities searched at least two apartments including one shared by five Afghan men, taking some of them in for questioning, said one man who was questioned.

Members of U.S. Congress briefed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation said there was no imminent danger.

"There was nothing imminent, and they are very good now at tracking potentially dangerous actions and this was preventive," said Charles Schumer, a U.S. Senator from New York who was among those briefed by FBI officials.

A man who identified himself as Amanullah Akbar, a 30-year-old taxi driver, said the FBI raided the apartment he shares with four other Afghan men at 2:30 a.m. (1630 GMT)

He was brought in for questioning and released and said he had no idea why his home was targeted, adding that he believed one of his roommates was arrested.

A neighbor said she saw FBI agents armed with what she called machine guns storm the apartment building, and that one of them emerged carrying a box.

"It was scary. I wasn't going to stop the FBI and ask them what was going on," said Melissa Khan, 28.

NYPD and FBI officials provided few details, calling it part of an ongoing investigation of the joint terrorism task force.

AL QAEDA IDEOLOGY SUSPECTED Continued...

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Lyrical Skills and Nas are synonymous. One and the same. Nas is a beast on the mic. A microphone wrecker. This joint was a slapper out the gate.

Just another classic joint from Nas..........

[Lyrics]

[sample singing]
"Woke up this mornin', you got yourself a gun, you got yourself a gun"..

[Chorus]
Yo I'm livin' in this time behind enemy lines
so I got mine, I hope you ("got yourself a gun")
You from the hood, I hope you ("got yourself a gun"
you want beef I hope ya ("got yourself a gun")
And when I see you I'ma take what I want
so you tried to front, hope ya ("got yourself a gun")
You ain't real, hope ya ("got yourself a gun")

[Verse 1]
My first album had no famous guest appearances
the outcome, I'm was crowned the best lyricist
many years on this professional level
why would you question who's better?
the World is still mine, tattoos real
with "God's Son" across the belly, the boss of rap
you saw me in Belly with thoughts like that
to take it back to Africa, I did it with Biggie
Me and 2Pac were soldiers of the same struggle
You lames should huddle, your teams shook y'all feel
the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football field
Throwin' passes from a barrel, shoulder pads, apparel
but the Q.B. don't stand for no quarterback
every word is like a sawed-off blast
'cause y'all all soft and I'm the black hearse
that came to haul y'all ass in
it's for the hood by the corner store
many try, many die, come at Nas if you want a war.

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
I'm the N the A to the S-I-R
and If I wasn't I must've been Escobar
you know the kid got his chipped tooth fixed
Hair parted with a barbers preciseness
Bravehearted for life, it's -
the return of the Golden Child, son of a blues player
so who are you playa? y'all awaited the true savior
puffin' that tropical, cups of that Vodka too
Papi chu', tore up, wake up in a hospital
Throw up? never, 'member I do this through righteous steps
you Judists thought I was gone, so in light of my death
y'all been all happy go lucky, bunch of sambos
call me Gods Son, with my pants low
I don't die slow, put them rags up like Petey Pablo
this is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar with this Nas flow, reppin'
hit the record sto', never let me go, get my whole collection.

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
It's - the - return of the Prince, the boss
this is real hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit's soft
sip criss, get chips, wrist gliss, I floss
stick shift look sick up in that boxsta Porsche
with the top cut off, rich kids go and cop the source
they don't know about the blocks I'm on
and everybody wanna know where the kid go, where he rest at?
where he shop at and dress at?
know he got dough, where does he live?
is he still in the bridge?
does he really know how ill that he is?
got all of y'all watchin' my moves
my watch and my jewels
hop in my coupe, dodge interviews like that
It's not only my jewels, ice anything, plenty chains
Look at my tennis shoes, I iced that
Who am I? the back twister, lingerie ripper
automatic leg spreader, quicker brain getter
keepin' it gangsta wit' ya

[Chorus]

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Come on man, Mobb Deep! East Coast Lyrical Skills at it's Finest. This is Classic Mobb Deep right here fool. A straight Banger.

One of my favourite Mobb Deep Songs... Good Video!

[Lyrics]

[Havoc]
We done seen it all, and been through it all yo
Let y'all niggaz know right now
Word to mother, for real, for real
That shit is the truth
I'm not lyin..

[Prodigy]
I put my lifetime in between the paper's lines
I'm the "Quiet Storm" nigga who fight rhyme
P yeah you heard of him but, I ain't concerned with them
Nigga I pop more guns than you holdin them
Make my route while the sun's out and scold your men
Unload ten, in broad daylight, get right
Fuck your life - hop on my ninety-eight dirt bike
You try to stop mines from growin, I'll make your blood stop flowin
Take affirmative action, to any ass if he askin (yeah aight)
Now here come the mack 10
You'se a dick blower, tryin to speak the Dunn language
What the drilly with that though? It ain't bangin
You hooked on Mobb-phonics Infamous-bonics
Lyin to the Pop Dog like you got it
You ain't no wildin out for the night fist thrower
Rusty shank holder, we live this shit

Chorus: Havoc

Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)
Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this
(hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough
It's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)
Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this
(hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough

[Prodigy]
Yo the P rock forty inch cables, drinkin white label
My chain hang down to my dick, my piece bang glass tables
Diamonds and guns before the fame Duke
A nigga like me hold tecs, are you the same too?
Goin through the emotions, of gun holdin
Long shotguns down my pants leg limpin
Killer bee who still livin, even my pops too
He taught me how to shoot when I was seven (yup)
I used to bust shots crazy
I couldn't even look because the loud sound used to scare me [POW!]
I love my pops for that, I love my nigga D-Black
I'll take the life of anybody tryin to change what's left
And through all of that a nigga ain't scared of death
All y'all brand new niggaz just scared to death
I spent too many night sniffin coke, gettin right
wastin my life, now I'm tryin to make things right
Grand open some gates, invest, in Iraq business
Do things for the kids (the little Dunns)
Build a jungle gym behind the crib, so they can enjoy youth
CBR's and VCR's
ATV's and big screen TV's, nigga please
Don't make me have to risk my freedom
We worked our whole life for this, you get your shit beat in
For real.. (yo)

Chorus: Havoc

Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (hip-hop *echoes*)
Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough

[Prodigy]
It go one, two, three to the fourth
That nigga P-Double got that shit
for y'alls peoples to rock to, stirrin up pots of brew
in hell's kitchen, I chef the impossible
To serve hot plates all across the unified states
Sit down and sup with top rap reps
We the streets that's watchin boy move diligent
You better walk like a nigga on the tight rope Duke
Infamous first infantry, first division fourth mission
First assignment -- give em that shit they been missin
My new edition's way bitch
Those that listen, get addicted to my diction
Fuck rhymes I write prescriptions, for your diseased
generic rap's just not potent like P's
One-thousand one-hundred CC's on the throttle
I peel off chest naked on Katanas
Spaghetti head Mobb niggaz is full bred
Fully blown melanin tone, I rock skeleton bone shirts
and verses, but thirst for worse beats
So I can put, more product out on the street
Get respect and love, all across the board
We've been adored, for keepin it raw, nuttin less or more
I score everytime for sure
while the rest of y'all niggaz just nil
(To the real..)

Chorus: Havoc

Cause it's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (hip-hop *echoes*)
Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough
It's the real shit, shit to make em feel shit (the real)
Lump em in the club shit, have you wildin out when you bump this
(hip-hop *echoes*) Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD cause it's never enough
(the real... hip-hop *echoes*)

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This cut brings back hella memories. If you were in Sacramento in the 80's then you probably remember the Second Level....it was a nightclub for teens. My homeboys Von and Stew used to DJ at that club and would have it crackin'! Donkey ropes and all that shit was in full effect. MC Shan was just a raw mc with them Golden Era Lyrical Skills. This is a classic joint.

Peep the interview below this video............




Legendary 80's Rap Artist MC SHAN talks with http://www.80sInYourFace.com
Best known for his 1987 hit "LEFT ME LONELY".
known for his 1987 hit "LEFT ME LONELY".




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