Hernici
The Hernici were an Italic tribe of ancient Italy, whose territory was in Latium between the Fucine Lake and the Sacco River (Trerus), bounded by the Volsci on the south, and by the Aequi and the Marsi on the north.
In 495 BC Livy records that they entered into a treaty with the Volsci against ancient Rome.
They long maintained their independence, and in 486 BC were still strong enough to conclude an equal treaty with the Latins. They broke away from Rome in 362 and in 306, when their chief town Anagnia was taken and reduced to a praefectura, but Ferentinum, Aletrium and Verulae were rewarded for their fidelity by being allowed to remain free municipia, a position which at that date they preferred to the civitas.
The name of the Hernici, like that of the Volsci, is missing from the list of Italian peoples whom Polybius describes as able to furnish troops in 225 BC; by that date, therefore, their territory cannot have been distinguished from Latium generally, and it seems probable that they had then received the full Roman citizenship. The oldest Latin inscriptions of the district (from Ferentinum) are earlier than the Social War, and present no local characteristic.
Podcasts:
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by Nas
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by Asia
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by Open Hand
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by Blodsrit
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by Diablo Swing Orchestra
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by As You Drown
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by Ghost Brigade
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by Gossip
Hero
by: NasChain gleaming
Switching lanes
Two-seating
Hate him or love him
For the same reason
Can't leave it
The games needs him
Plus the people need someone to believe in
So in God's Son we trust
'Cause they know I'm gonna give 'em what they want
They looking for... a hero
I guess that makes me... a hero
Another chapter of the cleanest rapper
Distinguished gentlemen
Crooks and castle on his back
Maybach-er, exotic lady eye-catcher
Holla at'cha, call me the chiropractor
Working like Muay Thai class
Get perspire out ya
And of course I've been the boss since back when
Rocking D Boy, Fila, velour in 190 black Benz
Now they shut down the stores when I'm shopping
Used to be train robbing, face covered in stocking
I'm him
Rubber-grip-holder, reloader
Come at me I'ma rip your soliders in half
Silverback ape, nickle-plated mag
Young, rich, and flashy
Young, b! tch, I'm nasty
All black clothes til ice lay on me so classy
And every time I close my lids
I can still see the borough, I can still see the Bridge
I can still see the dreams that my niqqas ain't never lived to see
Tell them angels open the door for me
From nine berettas and moving raw
To chilling in wine cellars
Sticks and humidors
That's what I call mature
That's what I call a g
That's what I call a pimp
That's what I call a gangsta
To the fullest, sh! t
I try to make more cream
By every September 14th, that's my dream
So I can be more clean, as I grow yearly
I can see things more clearly
That's why they fear me
This universal apartheid
I'm hog-tied, the corporate side
Blocking y'all from going to stores and buying it
First L.A. and Doug Morris was riding wit it
But Newsweek article startled big wigs
They said, Nas, why is he trying it?
My lawyers only see the Billboard charts as winning
Forgetting - Nas the only true rebel since the beginning
Still in musical prison, in jail for the flow
Try telling Bob Dylan, Bruce, or Billy Joel
They can't sing what's in their soul
So untitled it is
I never change nothin'
But people remember this
If Nas can't say it, think about these talented kids
With new ideas being told what they can and can't spit
I can't sit and watch it
So, sh! t, I'ma drop it
Like it or not
You ain't gotta cop it
I'm a hustler in the studio
Cups of Don Julio
No matter what the CD called