Album Review: Nas and DJ Premier, Light-Years

Nas and DJ Premier

Light-Years (released December 12, 2025)

Spring 1999. It was the era Nas was supposed to go three for three.

After recharting the course of rap with his debut Illmatic and cementing his legacy with the follow up, It Was Written, streets weren’t just buzzing, they were ablaze with anticipation for I Am … The Autobiography – a proposed double album that insiders claimed was an absolute smash.

But thanks to those pesky 90s bootleggers, The Autobiography was trimmed to just one disc, I Am, and reactions were very mixed.

My reactions weren’t mixed, though. I Am went triple platinum in my Chevy Cavalier, and it was all thanks to one song, “Nas Is Like,” produced by the incomparable DJ Premier.

Nas and Premier weren’t strangers – they’ve been close collaborators since Nas’ debut, including “I Gave You Power’ on Nas’ sophomore record – a song I still contend is the best storytelling record in rap history.

But there was something magical about “Nas Is Like.” Premier’s trademark scratches, Nas’ endless array of quotable bars (the final bars of the second verse have remained in my lexicon for decades), the obscure “What Child Is This?” sample – it didn’t feel like just another rap song, it felt like a psychology class. This was two men breaking down the contradictions of life itself in three minutes in 57 seconds.

I was captivated. I wanted more.

I wanted a full Nas/DJ Premier album.

While whispers of a joint project floated for years, fans never got concrete proof that it was happening.

I called the mythical album my White Whale – I was Captain Ahab, constantly chasing a prize I was never meant to have.

That was until 2025, the year Nas fulfilled all our rap dreams.

Nas’ Legend Has It Series through Mass Appeal Records reinvigorated the careers of several rap pioneers, giving Slick Rick another shot at glory, Ghostface Killah and Raekwon legit album of the year contenders, and posthumous releases from Big L, De La Soul and Mobb Deep that didn’t cheapen their legacy, it magnified it.

But he saved the best for last – Light-Years, the album that finally, FINALLY, unites Nas and Preemo for a full project. An album that seemed impossible even a few years ago.

My White Whale has finally surfaced, but with two rap heavyweights of this caliber, Light Years feels like light work.

Any worries about DJ Premier’s production in 2025 are soothed with the album opener “My Life Is Real.” Those signature scratches, those menacing piano keys, the atmosphere that simultaneously feels bleak yet hopeful – it’s the blueprint that made Preemo a household hip-hop name.

Nas gleefully brags that this historic union was the game plan all along – “already classic before you heard it, the spoiler was all my feature verses” – while shouting out the array of veterans who have benefited from his Legends Has It series. We’re one track in and the concept is clear – this album is meant to be a celebration of hip-hop culture.

“Pause Tapes” is an ode to the original beatmakers, detailing the meticulous process to create your own personal soundtrack in the analog days.

My mom’s hall closet, in boxes, all kinda s***
Johnnie Taylor records and some good Grover Washingtons, I’m lockin’ in
Grab a piece of vinyl, drop the needle at the top
Listen for a beat to rock, ninety minute tape, I got enough time
Play it one time, four bars, press record, then press pause, then restart
Record, loop, repeat, do that ’bout 20 times, yo, I made my first beat

Miss me with your AI programs – it took so much passion to reach perfection in those days.

“Writers” is a salute to the often-forgotten element of hip-hop, graffiti culture, serving as a heartwarming homage to the ghetto hieroglyphics. Meanwhile, “Bouquet” delivers flowers to seemingly every female MC who ever touched the mic. Everyone from JJ Fad and Sequence to Mia X and Coi Leray to Missy Elliott and Charli Baltimore get named dropped. Even Doja Cat. IYKYK.

“Welcome to the Underground” is an ode to the hunger and defiant energy of underground MC, turning back the clock to Nas’ nastiest era:

F* your candy a** Grammy grabs
I open fire like Panthers behind sand bags, with my comrades
Onslaught, turn you corny n****s to cornstarch
I lead and you just go with it
The one who clash with the whole system
Since I entered the scene, I just roll different
Now they code switching, they soul missing
A Catholic priest appears in your mirror
Y’all awaited Preem and Nas like it’s Detox
Forget the drum machine when Preem could just do the beatbox

And because it’s only right, we had to get a AZ feature spot. Time stands still as Esco and Sosa effortlessly exchange bars on “My Story Your Story” – they really are the Jordan and Pippen of the booth.

At its heart, Light-Years is an album about growth, both personally and professionally. “Nasty Esco Nasir” is an intriguing three way battle between the three major eras of Nas’ career – the defiant boom bap youngster vs the Christal sipping mafioso menace vs the father and philanthropist. It’s not just his story, it spotlights the evolution of the hip-hop industry. “Sons (Young Kings)” is the sequel to Nas’ incredible “Daughters,” showcasing the connection between boys and their parents, while also serving as a quiet tribute to his own mother. And “3^rd Childhood,” reuses the scratches from Stillmatic’s excellent “2^nd Childhood” reflects on the blessings of maturity:

My third childhood, that third course, that’s the main dish
Hope we get dessert, that’s the cherry on top
Peaceful sundays, but we still carry the Glocks, registered
If you made it this far, then it’s all good
It makes me proud, I love that we goin’ out hood

I haven’t touched much on the production of Light-Years and while it’s good to hear Premier recapture his vintage sound, it obviously can’t compare to the hits of yesteryear. The rumbling production of “Madman” is reminiscent of his previous banger “Classic” while the funkiness of “GiT Ready” and the throwback feel of “Shine Together” are Premier at this beatmaking best. The crackling static on “Pause Tapes” add so much personality to the antiquated narrative. And shout out to the outstanding Steve Miller Band flip on “It’s Time,” it’s the album’s standout.

Other concepts don’t work as smoothly – “NY State of Mind 3” blends Billy Joel’s glitzy original track with terrifying soundscapes straight out of Stranger Thing. I get the contrast Premier was going for in showcasing the two worlds, but the experience is jarring.

Let’s be real, Light-Years is a very good album – easily one of the year’s better releases – but there’s no way it could match the insane levels of hype it’s generated over the past three decades. Nas and Premier know that. Light-Years doesn’t aspire to be Illmatic 2025 or I Am the Middle Aged Memoir. Instead, it’s a musical extension of the Legend Has It concept – a celebration of hip-hop culture, an elevation of its architects and a keen reminder that culture is not dictated in boardrooms.

Sure, the reflections, history lessons and name drops often make Light-Years feel like a time capsule, but that’s by design. Nas and Premier aren’t fighting to prove their greatness – it’s more a celebration than statement piece.

By album’s end, I realized that Light-Years isn’t just my White Whale, it’s Nas and Preemo’s too. The conundrum of the White Whale is the thrill of the chase, not reaching the goal. As Nas wisely notes on “Junkie,” it’s impossible to be truly fulfilled: