It Was Written

Following the consensus masterpiece that was Illmatic, Nas faced an impossible task with his 1996 sophomore effort It Was Written. The debut had established him as street poetry's most gifted narrator, a twenty-year-old whose observational precision and technical facility seemed to arrive fully formed. Two years later, Columbia expected commercial validation of that critical acclaim. What emerged was an album caught between artistic integrity and mainstream aspiration—a tension that defines both its strengths and its occasional missteps.

It Was Written represents Nas at a crossroads. The Trackmasters-helmed production pushes toward radio viability with shinier instrumentation and more structured hooks, a deliberate pivot from Illmatic's raw minimalism. Guest appearances multiply: Lauryn Hill, Foxy Brown, AZ, and Mobb Deep all claim space on an album that feels more collaborative than its hermetic predecessor. The thematic focus shifts too, from project hallways to penthouse fantasies, from observer to participant in the criminal narratives he once documented from safe distance.

This expansion brought commercial rewards—platinum certifications and genuine crossover hits—but divided purists who heard compromise where Nas heard evolution. Twenty-five years later, the album occupies complicated territory in his discography: neither the untouchable artistic statement of Illmatic nor the messy creative sprawl of later work, but something more interesting—a talented artist navigating the industry machine while retaining enough of his core vision to produce something substantial.

The production on It Was Written marks the album's most dramatic departure from Nas's debut. Where Illmatic thrived on dusty loops and minimalist arrangements, Trackmasters and their contemporaries construct more elaborate sonic architecture. The beats gleam with radio-ready polish—keyboards sparkle, basslines thump with programmed precision, and hooks arrive with commercial intent. This aesthetic shift mirrors mid-90s East Coast hip-hop's broader trajectory as labels sought crossover success without abandoning street credibility entirely.

Yet the production rarely feels like pure compromise. On "Take It in Blood," the ominous piano loop and minimal percussion create genuine menace despite their relative cleanness. The track breathes with negative space, allowing Nas room to construct vivid tableaux of violence and paranoia. Similarly, "I Gave You Power" employs a melancholic sample that complements rather than overshadows one of hip-hop's most inventive narrative conceits—telling a story from a gun's perspective. The Trackmasters understood that accessibility need not mean artistic bankruptcy.

Lyrically, Nas remains formidable even as his subject matter shifts toward materialism and mob fantasies. The technical prowess that made Illmatic essential survives intact: multisyllabic internal rhyme schemes, unexpected metaphors, and the kind of dense wordplay that rewards repeated listening. Lines arrive fully formed, complete thoughts compressed into bars that scan perfectly while conveying maximum information. When he raps about champagne wishes and criminal enterprise, the execution remains professional even when the content feels less urgent than Queensbridge survival narratives.

The album's thematic identity splits between street reportage and aspirational excess. Tracks like "Shootouts" and "Suspect" maintain the observational distance of Illmatic, documenting violence with journalistic detachment. But "Street Dreams" and the Lauryn Hill collaboration "If I Ruled the World (Imagine That)" reach for something bigger—commercial viability, certainly, but also a kind of utopian thinking absent from the debut's grim realism. This duality prevents It Was Written from achieving Illmatic's unified vision, but it also makes the album a more honest document of where Nas stood in 1996: hungry for success, aware of his gifts, and willing to adapt without completely abandoning his foundation.

The sequencing feels less deliberate than Illmatic's perfect flow. The album sprawls across sixteen tracks, and while none qualify as outright filler, the runtime dilutes impact. Momentum stalls in the middle section as posse cuts and narrative experiments accumulate without clear thematic progression. The decision to include "Street Dreams" twice—once as the original version, once as a remix—suggests either label interference or questionable judgment. Tighter editing would have strengthened the final product considerably.

Still, the album's ambitions deserve respect. Nas refused to simply recreate Illmatic's formula, understanding that artistic growth requires risk. The Firm collective hinted at here—AZ, Foxy Brown, and Cormega in various configurations—represented an attempt to build something larger than solo stardom. Not all experiments succeed, but the willingness to experiment distinguishes great artists from competent ones.

"I Gave You Power" stands as It Was Written's most audacious creative gesture. Nas adopts the voice of a firearm, tracing its journey from store shelf to street crime to evidence locker. The conceit could have been gimmicky, but Nas commits fully, imbuing the weapon with personality and perspective while maintaining the storytelling clarity that defines his best work. The gun experiences fear, pride, and ultimately obsolescence—a meditation on violence that avoids both glorification and heavy-handed moralizing. This is concept rap executed at the highest level, the kind of narrative innovation that justifies artistic reputation.

"The Message" announces the album's intentions immediately: sharper production, more confident delivery, and thematic scope beyond project hallways. Nas name-checks luxury brands and international locales while maintaining the observational acuity that made him essential. The track balances commercial appeal with lyrical substance, proving that accessibility and artistry need not conflict. It sets a template the album sometimes struggles to maintain but always aspires toward.

The Lauryn Hill collaboration "If I Ruled the World (Imagine That)" became It Was Written's biggest commercial success, and its appeal remains obvious. Hill's sung hook provides melodic relief from relentless bars, while Nas constructs an idealized vision of power without corruption, wealth without moral compromise. The track aims for anthem status and achieves it, offering the kind of uplift rare in mid-90s New York rap. Purists dismissed it as pandering, but the song's endurance suggests otherwise—sometimes reaching for broader audiences produces genuine art rather than calculated product.

It Was Written will never escape Illmatic's shadow, nor should it try. The albums serve different purposes: one documented a moment of pure artistic vision, the other navigated the complications success brings. Judging this sophomore effort by the debut's standard misses the point—Nas was attempting something different here, and mostly succeeding on those terms.

The album's inconsistencies reflect honest creative tension rather than cynical calculation. Yes, the commercial concessions sometimes grate, and yes, tighter editing would have helped. But It Was Written contains enough genuine artistry to justify its reputation as a worthy follow-up to an impossible-to-follow album. Tracks like "I Gave You Power" and "Take It in Blood" rank among Nas's finest work, while even the more radio-friendly material maintains lyrical standards most rappers never approach.

In hip-hop's broader narrative, It Was Written represents a crucial pivot point—the moment when 90s New York rap began its shift from underground credibility toward mainstream domination. Nas made that transition with more grace than most, retaining enough street authenticity to satisfy purists while reaching audiences Illmatic never could. The album went double platinum and produced genuine hits without completely abandoning the artistic principles that made him matter. That balancing act, however imperfect, deserves recognition as its own kind of achievement.