As the final release of Mass Appeal’s Legend Has It… campaign, Light-Years arrives with anticipation that’s been quietly building for more than two decades—even if it was never formally promised. The title is fitting: both Nas and DJ Premier are now light-years removed from where they began in 1994. My personal Mount Rushmore of rappers is Big Daddy Kane, KRS-One, Rakim, and Nas—and while I love the first three, Nas is the one who has done it for over 30 years, consistently, at an elite level.

Light-Years is a strong, classic-leaning hip-hop album that celebrates raw boom-bap, historical reflection, and Nas’s fully matured lyricism. It plays like a victory lap for two legends, honoring hip-hop’s foundations through thoughtful storytelling and Premier’s unmistakable sound.

Any concern about DJ Premier’s production in 2025 is immediately erased by the opener, “My Life Is Real.” The signature scratches, chopped keys, and chilling-but-hopeful atmosphere are exactly what made Preemo a household name. Nas salutes fallen hip-hop soldiers and reflects on his own role in the Mass Appeal run, rapping, “Already classic before you heard it, the spoiler was all my feature verses / I lined it up kinda perfect and then I hurled it.”

“GiT Ready” shifts into a funkier groove, flipping a Wilson Pickett sample into a gritty loop with deep bass and classic drums. Nas flexes business acumen through dual meanings, dubbing himself the “Cryptocurrency Scarface,” reflecting both street mythology and modern wealth.

Premier attempts to merge Billy Joel’s “State of Mind” with Illmatic DNA, but the result feels forced in “N.Y. State of Mind Pt. 3.” The sped-up Joel sample gives way to a darker, moodier loop with sonic nods to “N.Y. State of Mind.” Nas wisely avoids chasing the original’s impact, instead treating the track as a current-events update—how the city has changed, but the streets have not. While the production falters, Nas’s flow remains sharp.

“Welcome to the Underground” pushes defiance through legacy, including Ice Cube’s howl from “Fuck Tha Police.” The ominous blues-tinged beat sets the stage as Nas reflects on hip-hop’s Queensbridge roots and the era when nearly everyone came from the underground. This is a standout where production and performance fully align.

The nods deepen on “Madman,” which channels Wu-Tang Clan energy outright, echoing Inspectah Deck’s “murderous material made by a madman.” The beat is dusty, dark, and pure Premier—straight out of 1994. Nas delivers ferocious verses, switching cadence mid-bar, driving the album forward with urgency.

On “Pause Tapes,” Premier constructs a layered collage of hip-hop history: Havoc’s “Shook Ones” drums, Q-Tip reminiscing about pausing cassette tapes, and Marley Marl and Craig G.’s “Droppin’ Science.” Nas matches the rawness with an old-school flow that fits seamlessly.

The album peaks with “Writers,” a masterclass in Premier’s scratch work. Funky basslines blend with ambient swells as Nas locks in with surgical precision. The track channels Eric B. & Rakim’s “My Melody” and “Let the Rhythm Hit ‘Em,” along with The Pharcyde’s “Passin’ Me By,” and golden-era craftsmanship while Nas declares, “Writin’ my name in graffiti / Yes indeedy.”

“Sons (Young Kings)” acts as a spiritual successor to “Daughters,” exploring fatherhood, masculinity, and lineage, while quietly honoring Nas’s late mother. Preemo’s soulful production gives Nas space to speak directly to his son—and to young men finding their way.

“It’s Time” weaves together Steve Miller Band’s “Fly Like an Eagle,” Fat Joe’s “Dat Gangsta Shit,” the Beastie Boys’ “Paul Revere,” and Nas’s own “N.Y. State of Mind.” Inspired by Scarface’s “The world is yours,” Nas reflects on time’s fleeting nature, loyalty, violence, and hope—urging listeners to seize opportunity while staying rooted.

On “Nasty Esco Nasir,” Nas cycles through past personas with tonal precision, though the uninspired beat fails to match his energy. In contrast, “My Story Your Story” reunites Nas and AZ, whose chemistry remains effortless. Premier wisely keeps the beat minimal, letting their grown-man reflections breathe.

“Bouquet (To the Ladies)” is both tribute and history lesson. Pulling from LL Cool J’s “I Need Love” and EPMD’s “So Watcha Sayin’,” Nas honors Faith Newman and a long list of women who shaped hip-hop—Sha-Rock, Roxanne Shanté, Queen Latifah, Lauryn Hill, Jean Grae, Ché Noir, and more—bridging gratitude with groove.

The album’s most revealing moment may be “Junkie,” where Nas frames his relationship with hip-hop as addiction: “Hard to let it go, how could you when you in love with it?” Premier’s restrained production allows Nas’s confession to take center stage.

The duo closes strong with “Shine Together,” featuring expertly placed scratches of Biggie, Remy Ma, and Nas himself. It feels like a lost mid-2000s gem—nostalgic, polished, and confident. “3rd Childhood” serves as a sequel to 2001’s “2nd Childhood,” with Nas turning the lens inward. Over jazzy boom-bap, he rejects the idea that aging disqualifies relevance:  “But with rap, it’s a time limit? Never.”

Nas is 52. Premier is 58. They made a record that sounds intentional—no chasing trends, no softening edges. While a few beats fall short, Light-Years is largely a return to Premier’s gritty, sample-heavy boom-bap and Nas fully embracing his role as curator of hip-hop’s lineage. At 48 minutes, no skits, just bars, the album keeps its focus where it belongs.

Nas and DJ Premier didn’t make this album to prove anything. They made it because they still love it—and you can hear that in every scratch and lyric.

One Love - Todd M. Judd