Anan may refer to:
Anan (Jewish Babylonian Aramaic: רב ענן) was a Babylonian amora of the third century, disciple of Mar Samuel (Yebamot 83b, Ḳiddushin 39a), and contemporary of Rav Huna and Mar 'Uḳba II. (Ketubot 69a). Anecdote and legend combine to illustrate Anan's renown for extreme conscientiousness in his capacity as judge in civil cases, as well as for his theosophic speculations. The book Tanna Devei Eliyahu ("Seder Eliyahu Rabbah" and "Seder Eliyahu Zuṭṭa") is said to have been composed during visitations Anan received from the prophet Elijah (Ketubot 106a). Anan was prominent as a teacher of civil law and of ritual; and though Rav Nachman once criticized one of his arguments — remarking, "While attending Mar Samuel, you must have spent your time in playing at checkers" (or "chess," Iskundré, Ḳiddushin 21b) — he highly respected him, and addressed him with the title of Mar ("Master," Ḥullin 56a). Rav Huna, on his part, did not consider Anan his equal; and when the latter once addressed to him a message, headed, "To Huna, our colleague, greetings," he felt himself depreciated and replied in a manner that embarrassed Anan (Ketubot 69a). In the field of the Aggadah, Anan rarely appears, and then only as the transmitter of observations of his predecessors. But many of his teachings were probably incorporated with those of the students of the school that bore his name, Debe Rab Anan (Sukkah 49b; 'Erubin 54b). In addition to the above, he is also mentioned in Berakhot 30b; Shabbat 119a; Jerusalem Talmud Shabbat iii. 5c (compare Babylonian Talmud Shabbat 37a); Erubin 74b; Yebamot 97a; Jerusalem Talmud Yebamot ix. 10b; Ketubot 79a; Giṭṭin 44b; Shevu'ot, 40b; Ḥullin 4b, 38a; among other places.
Anan is both a given name and a surname. Notable people with the name include:
[Twista]
Yo check it out
It's the Twista in the house
Representin K-Town, Westside of Chi
No lie
You know how we do it, Mobstability style
Adrenaline rushin, suckers facin the repercussion
I'ma set it off like this though, check it out
You just a bitch in disguise
I hear cries, cause you can't whistle for your guys
Surprised when you saw these pistols in yo' eyes
Show no fear like mere mortals
cause I shoot bloody portals, through motherfuckers orals
Niggaz dyin, causin horrifyin pictorals
My passion for blastin made me an assassin
on all other meat shift workers
who's purpose is to serve ?? til they clientele hurtin
Murders got em nervous, I pull my weed and gun out
Blast until they run in the house while I got the blunt in my mouth
Yo Mob blast, I'ma defeat you, run 3-2-1 Contact
Cognac, get me shot with a black gat itchin to bomb back
Hoes can't get no sleep when I sent yo' chief
for the greenbacks you bring us
Shots hit his vest as he grabbed his chest
as I watch him bleed through his fingers, now come one come all
but if all come, all fall, fuck y'all, we raw dogs
that'll come gunnin, niggaz runnin like they soldiers
In the heat of the night if you lookin for static to start up
Guards up, or bring them straps and come ready to mob up
My motto is I'ma live my life fuck the slow and puffin herb
Gettin boss ?, while my money's doublin on the curb
So fuck a job, I'm bustin stains and my idol's Kane
In school I maintained, but at night I was shakin brown brains
Alluminum foil, servin before it's spoils
I got yay on the boil and my inner circle is loyal
and critically acclaimed in the category of gangbang
Constantly showered in black rain, as we bring the pain
[Twista]
You done crossed our inner circle - now I'm fin' to hurt you
cause the Mob peeped all of your loopholes
Let the trigger work you
Bust all of you bitches, and all of you hoes
When the blunt come, stunts better run shit
Look what a thug sprung
See what drugs done?
When I hug the gun it make murder for my loved ones
Thought you was down to die but you been found a lie, so fuck you
Can't trust you, gotta bust you
Plus you nigga can't get licks in hustle
Try to flex your muscle but my criteria overcomes your strategies
Try to make a Mob patter please
I can rat on you and ? an amount of G's
Musta had a lot of bud in him
I can barely bludgeon him, whip out all the stud in him
But I ain't even stunnin him
Then again he's gone, so I just put a slug in him
Dug in him dead and I'm headin then hoes off at the pass
Open up a can of kick ass
Toi aren't we loyal, G's out quick fast
[Ms. Toi]
Yo, it's that, West Coast diva from the Chi
That keepin that P, in the pimpin, so let's fly
to, ??, over here today, to lay down the
funk me and Twista display
Can you even comprehend this ghetto feel
I got my own type of slang and I keep my shit so real
So hold your sack, nigga so you can get back
It ain't a damn thing I lack, I kicks all of the facts
So artifacts, and you artifical game players
It's Ms. Toi with The Union and we straight slay ya
You haters can't even, try to trip with this, respect the Ms.
It's all about that swiftest, Ms. represents
and me, in Cali, I hit that Richter scale
Focus to be mobbin with the tightest females
But oh well, oh well, if that shit don't go down
from Inglewood to Chi-Town
Momma Militia and Twista straight clip ya
It's me, slicin the necks of MC's
with my homey Twista in the Windy City
It's me, slicin the necks of MC's
with my homey Twista in the Windy City