(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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