Nas didn’t just write a song about a gun. He became the gun.
When It Was Written dropped in 1996, the pressure was suffocating. Nas was coming off Illmatic, an album so perfect it basically became a cage for his career. Everyone wanted Illmatic part two, but Nasir Jones had different plans. He teamed up with The Trackmasters, aimed for the charts, and then, right in the middle of a polished, high-budget sophomore effort, he dropped Nas I Gave You Power. It’s a track that fundamentally shifted how we look at storytelling in rap. Honestly, it's still weird to think about how a twenty-two-year-old had the psychological depth to personify a cold piece of metal so convincingly.
He didn't use a gimmick. He used a perspective.
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The song starts with that eerie, haunting DJ Premier production—though Premier actually didn't produce the whole track; it was a rare collaboration where he provided the atmosphere and the scratch, while God’s Son handled the vision. You hear the breathing. You hear the clicking. Then, the first line hits: "I seen some things in my life that'll make a man weep." Except, it isn't a man talking. It’s a black 9mm.
The Mechanical Soul of Nas I Gave You Power
Most people listen to rap for the beat or the hook. With Nas I Gave You Power, you’re listening for the character arc. It’s a tragedy in three verses.
The gun is tired. That’s the core of the song. We usually think of weapons as these inanimate objects of power, but Nas writes the firearm as a weary veteran of a war it never asked to fight. It’s got "rust on its barrel." It’s been tossed into bushes and hidden under mattresses. There’s a specific kind of exhaustion in the way Nas describes being "held by a kid who’s only thirteen."
Think about that for a second.
In the mid-90s, the "mafioso rap" trend was exploding. Everyone was rapping about being the biggest, the baddest, and the wealthiest. Nas went the opposite direction. He looked at the tool of that violence and gave it a conscience. He describes the "warmth" of a hand and the "coldness" of the street. The gun actually hates its job. It wants to be "left alone in the dark."
The technical skill here is ridiculous. Nas manages to keep the metaphor airtight for the entire runtime. He talks about his "magazine" being his "guts." He talks about "chambering a round" as if he’s taking a breath. It’s a level of songwriting that you just don't see anymore. Rappers today often focus on the "vibe," but Nas was focused on the literature.
Why the Metaphor Worked (And Why It Still Stings)
You’ve probably heard dozens of songs about street violence. They usually follow a template: the shooter, the victim, the aftermath. Nas I Gave You Power flips the script by making the gun the victim of its own existence.
There’s a moment in the second verse that always gets me. The gun is being used in a drive-by. Nas describes the tension of the trigger being pulled, but then—something happens. The gun jams.
"I'm jammed! I'm screaming inside!"
It’s a moment of intentional failure. The gun decides it doesn't want to kill anymore. It chooses to let the target live. In the world of hip-hop, where "reliability" is everything, Nas writes about the power of a malfunction. It’s a silent protest against the cycle of violence. He’s basically saying that even the tools of death have had enough of the carnage in the inner city.
Critics like Robert Christgau and magazines like The Source at the time pointed out that this wasn't just clever; it was a sociological statement. By removing the "gangster" from the center of the narrative and replacing him with the weapon, Nas forced the listener to look at the mechanics of the environment. The gun sees the fear in the shooter’s hand. It feels the sweat. It knows the shooter is just as scared as the person being shot at.
The Influence on Modern Storytelling
You can’t talk about Kendrick Lamar or Lupe Fiasco without talking about Nas I Gave You Power.
Twenty years later, Kendrick did something similar with "Sing About Me, I'm Dying of Thirst," where he takes on multiple personas to tell a sprawling story of Compton. But Nas did it first in a single, concentrated burst. 2Pac actually loved the concept so much he reportedly felt a bit of "creative jealousy" over it. It’s widely rumored that 'Pac’s "Me and My Girlfriend" was a direct response to Nas, though Tupac took the metaphor in a more romanticized, Bonnie-and-Clyde direction.
Nas was doing something more "street-noir."
The song isn't just about a gun; it's about the loss of agency. When you’re in that environment, you feel like a tool. You feel like you're being used by forces—poverty, systemic pressure, the "game"—that are bigger than you. The line "I gave you power, I made you buck" is a double-edged sword. The gun gives the man power, but the man gives the gun its purpose. It’s a parasitic relationship where nobody actually wins.
The Technical Breakdown: Flow and Production
Let’s talk about the sound. DJ Premier’s production on this track is minimalist but heavy. The piano loop feels like it’s dripping with rain. It’s cinematic.
Nas uses a "conversational flow" here that was ahead of its time. He isn't trying to outrap the beat with fast-paced syllables. Instead, he lingers on words. He breathes. He mimics the physical movements of a weapon. When the gun is dropped, the flow stops. When it’s picked up, the rhythm restarts.
It’s also important to note the ending. The gun is eventually discarded. It’s "thrown in the weeds" after it fails to fire. The final image is the gun watching its former owner get shot because the gun wouldn't work for him. It’s a grim, ironic conclusion. The gun finds peace in the dirt, finally away from the hands of men.
Actionable Insights for Hip-Hop Heads and Writers
If you’re a fan of the genre or a writer looking to understand why this track is a masterclass, look at these specific elements:
- Commitment to the Bit: Nas never breaks character. He never says "I’m like a gun." He says "I am the gun." If you’re using a metaphor in any creative work, go all in.
- Sensory Details: He doesn't just talk about shooting. He talks about the "smell of gun oil," the "rubbing of the holster," and the "coldness of the pavement."
- Subverting Expectations: Everyone expected a "tough" song. He gave them a "sad" song about a lethal object.
- The Power of Silence: The "jam" in the song is the most powerful moment. Sometimes what doesn't happen in a story is more important than what does.
To really appreciate the impact, you have to go back and listen to the transition from "Street Dreams" to Nas I Gave You Power. "Street Dreams" is a radio-friendly hit about the glamour of the life. Following it up with the cold, metallic reality of a sentient 9mm was a bold move that solidified Nas as the thinking man’s rapper.
If you want to dive deeper into Nas’s discography, don't just stop at Illmatic. The storytelling on It Was Written—specifically tracks like this and "The Message"—shows a songwriter who was moving past simple reportage and into the realm of high-concept art.
The next time you hear a "concept" rap song, check for the DNA of this track. It’s usually there. Nas didn't just give the gun power; he gave it a voice that still echoes in every booth where a rapper tries to tell a story that's bigger than themselves.