Favourite Rap Lines

Nice to see the Lupe Fiasco love in this thread.

A great verse from 'Nas is like'

But whats it all worth, cant take it when you under this earth
Rich men died and tried, but none of it worked
They just rob your grave, Id rather be alive and paid
Before my numbers called, historys made
Somell fall, but I rise, thug or die
Makin choices, that determine my future under the sky
To rob steal or kill, Im wondering why
Its a dirty game, is any man worthy of fame?
Much to success to ya, even if you wish me the opposite
Sooner or later we'll all see who the prophet is...
 
"When I die, fuck it I wanna go to hell. 'Cause I'm a piece of shit it ain't hard to fucking tell. It don't make sense goin' to heaven with the goodie goodies, dressed in white, I like black Tims and black hoodies."

Notorious B.I.G. - Suicidal Thoughts
 
I like rappers who don't need to swear, that shows a lack of intelligence. Anything by krs-one will suffice. He was one of the original gangster rappers but hardly swore, probably why he isn't that mainstream, disappointing really.

9mm-

"They pumped and shot again but the suckas kept on missin

Cos I was on the floor by now, I crawled into the kitchen

Thirty seconds later, boy, they bust the door down

The money and the sensemi' was lyin all around

But just as they put their pistols down to take a cut

Me jumped out the kitchen, went ""buck! buck! buck!""
 
Man, listen all this walking is hurting my feet
But money looks sweet (where at?) in the Isuzu jeep

Man, I throw him in the Beem, you grab the fucking C.R.E.A.M
and if he start to scream "bam! bam!", have a nice dream
Hold up, he got a fucking woman in the car
Fur coats and diamonds, she thinks she a superstar

Ooh Biggie, let me jack her, I kick her in the back
Hit her with the gat...

Yo chill, Shorty, let me do that...
Just get the fucking car keys and cruise up the block
The woman act shocked, getting shot on the spot
(Oh shit! The cops!) Be cool, fool
They ain't gonna roll up, all they want is fucking doughnuts
(So why the fuck he keep looking?) I guess to get his life tooken
I just came home, ain't trying to see Central Booking
Oh shit, now he looking in my face
You better haul ass 'cos I ain't with no fucking chase
So lace up your boots, 'cos I'm about to shoot
A true motherfucker going out for the loot


Biggie - Gimmie the loot.<br /><br />-- Sat Oct 23, 2010 1:59 am --<br /><br />
crizack said:
I like rappers who don't need to swear, that shows a lack of intelligence. Anything by krs-one will suffice.
Click to expand...

Find this just a silly statement.
 
carrconormcfc said:
Nice to see the Lupe Fiasco love in this thread.
Click to expand...

I honestly think the man is a genius and I don't say that lightly.

Tracks like ‘Failure’, 'What it do', 'Dumb it down' ' pen and the needles' are so complex in their world play, it's mind boggling! I actually believe that you could easily ask kids to study them in school in the same way they look at Shakespeare for example.

Then you throw in his ability to change flows seemingly at will (see 'switch') and the concepts he comes up with ('The Cool' saga, 'Mean and Vicious') the guy has got it all. He's the best ever for me.

It's absolutely criminal that Atlantic records are refusing to release his album. 18 months they've had it, but don't think it has enough singles allegedly, what a joke!
 
WINTER WARZ
(feat. Masta Killa, U-God, Raekwon, Cappadonna)
==========================================

It's on...

[Cappa]
Where your sparkle at kid?
Ryzarector..

[Raekwon tha Chef]
Yes the shit is raw, comin at your door
Start to scream out loud, Wu-Tang's back for more
Yes the hour's four, I told you before
Prepare for mic fights (and plus the cold war)



[U-God]
This rhyme you digest through the RZA console
Ask why I slam nine diagram pole
Raekwon dropped the bomb, Hunchback, Norte Dame
Golden Arms is bronze, buddah palm hit Qu'ran
It blows extreme, mean stream be the theme
Supreme team, America's Cream Team, redeemed
Vidal Sassoon, chrome tones hear the moans of Al Capone
Gun POW to the dome
And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge
By the alledged, full-fledged, sledge RZA edge
One dose of my feroc(ious) handheld trigga cuts
Acapella spittin shell paralyzed when you get touched
And critical mic cords, hangin like umbilical
Cords, dope swords, five star general
Raw be the quote rap style sore throat
Through the fully operational, hand held tote mm-hmm




[Raekwon tha Chef]
Yes the shit is raw, comin at your door
Start to scream out loud, Wu-Tang's back for more
Yes the hour's four, I told you before
Prepare for mic fights (and plus the cold war)




[Ghostface Killah]
More than a thousand times one, snatch up my styles get done
I hold a title, enhanced how my belt was won, check it
Slick majestic, broke mics are left infected
Germs start to spread through your crew, drew like an epic
You asked for it, shot up the jams like syringes
My technique alone blows doors straight off the hinges
Masked Avenger, I appear to blow your ear like wind
With a freestyle, sharper than the Indian spear
So sit back and let the king explore
Describe me, the kid's nice and he holds swords
And his name, black attack's the nerve like migraines
With more games than beggars on trains, livid sharp pains
Poisonous Rebel like Deck, you can't destroy this
You get ambushed, skate, try to avoid this
Side effects of, hot raps and hot tracks
A duffle bag full of guns son, dipped in black
My culture, glides and attacks just like a vulture
Ghostface in Madison Square is on your poster



[Raekwon tha Chef]
Yes the shit is raw, comin at your door
Start to scream out loud, Wu-Tang's back for more
Yes the hour's four, I told you before
Prepare for mic fights (and plus the cold war)



[Masta Lilla]
Be on the lookout for this mass murderous suspect
That fills more body bags than apartments in projects
And as far as the coroners know
The autopsy show, it was a Shaolin blow
Put on by my family brought to the academy
of the Wu and learned how to
fuck up yo' anatomy, steadily, calm and deadly
Spatter-head lyrics I lick through your transmit
MC's submit to the will as I kill your
juvenile freestyle, civilize the men-tal
Devils worship this like an icon
Bear-huggin mics with the grips of a python





[Raekwon tha Chef]
Yes the shit is raw, comin at your door
Start to scream out loud, Wu-Tang's back for more
Yes the hour's four, I told you before
Prepare for mic fights (and plus the cold war)






[Cappadonna]
You heard of the rasp before but kept waitin
for the sun of song, I keep dancehalls strong
Beats never worthy of my cause, I prolong
Extravangza, time sits still
No propoganda, be wary of the skill
As I bring forth the music, make love to your eardrum
Dedicated to rap nigga beware of the fearsome
Lebanon Don, Malcolm X beat threat
CD massacre, murder to cassette
I blow the shop up, you ain't seen nuttin yet
One man ran, tryin to get away from it
Put your bifocal on, watch me a-cometh
into your chamber like Freddy enter dream
Discombumberate your technique and your scheme
Four course applause, like a black dat to dat
You're stuck on stupid like I'm stuck on the map
Nowhere to go except next show bro
Entertainin motherfuckers can't stop O
in battlin, you don't want me to start tattlin
All upon the stage cause y'all snakes keep rattlin
woman, you ain't got nothin on the rich
Every other day my whole dress code switch
So just in case you want to clock me like Sherry
All y'all crab bitches ain't got to worry
Can't get a nigga like Don dime a dozen
Even if I'm smoked out I can't be scoped out
I'm too ill, I represent Park Hill
See my face on the twenty dollar bill
Cash it in, and get ten dollars back
The fat LP with Cappachino on the wax
Pass it in your think, put valve up to twelve
Put all the other LP's back on the shelf
And smoke a blunt, and dial 9-1-7
1-6-0-4-9-3-11
And you could get long dick hip-hop affection
I damage any MC who step in my direction
I'm Staten Island's best son fuck what you heard
Niggaz still talkin that shit is absurd
My repotoire, is U.S.S.R.
P.L.O. style got thrown out the car
and ran over, by the Method Man jeep
Divine can't define my style is so deep
like pussy, my low cut fade stay bushy
like a porcupine, I part backs like a spine
Cut you like a blunt and reconstruct your design
I know you want to diss me, but I can read your mind
Cuz you weak in the knees, like SWV
Tryin to get a title like Wu Killa Bee
Kid change your habit, you know I'm friends with the Abbott
Me and RZA ridin name printed in the tablet
under vets, we paid our debts for mad years
Hibernate the sound, and now we out like beers
and blunt power, born physically power speakin
The truth in the song be the pro-black teachin

================================================
"fuckabout" ;-)

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WUAwdXRbyWM&feature=related[/youtube]
 
This wins...

Nas - Rewind.

I spit a story backwards, it starts at the ending

The bullet goes back in the gun
The bullet hole's closin this chest of a nigga
Now he back to square one
Screamin, "Shoot don't please"
I put my fifth back on my hip
It's like a VCR rewindin a hit
He put his hands back on his woman
My caravan doors open up
I jumped back in the van and closed it shut
Goin reverse, slowly prepared
My nigga Jungle utters out somethin crazy like, "Go he there"
Sittin in back of this chair, we hittin the roach
The smoke goes back in the blunt, the blunt gets bigger in growth
Jungle unrolls it, put his weed back in the jar
The blunt turns back into a cigar
We listen to Stevie, it sounded like heavy metal fans
Spinnin records backwards of AC/DC
I give my niggas dap, jump out the van back first
Back upstairs, took off the black shirt
I'm in the crib with the phone to my ear
Listen up so y'all can figure out the poem real clear
The voice on the phone was like, "Outside right we"
So with my mouth wide, holdin my heat
Bullets I had plenty to squeeze, plenty for ya
'Cause Jungle said, "Block your on enemies the"
Hung up the phone, then the phone rang <phone ringing>
I'm laid in the bed thinkin 'bout this pretty young thing
Who left, she came back, her clothes just fell to the rug
She fell to my bed and gave me a hug
I told her, "No hell"
She talkin 'bout, "Me kiss"
Bobbed her head then spit the nut back in my dick
Started suckin with no hands, a whole lotta spit
Then got up and put her bra back on her tits
Got fully dressed and told me, "Stressed really I'm"
Picked up her Gucci bag and left her nigga behind
Walkin through the door, she rang the bell twice
I vomited Vodka back in my glass with juice and ice
The clock went back from three, to two, to one
And that's about the time the story begun
That's when I first heard the voicemail on the cell
It said, "Son we found that nigga we gotta kill"
 
Little Terry got a gun, he got from the store,
He bought it with the money he got from his chores,
He robbed candy shop told her lay down on the floor,
Put the cookies in his bag took the pennies out the drawer.

Little Kalil got a gun he got from the rebels,
To kill the infidels and American devils,
A bomb on his waist,
A mask on his face,
Prays five times a day,
And listens to Heavy Metal.

Little Alex got a gun he took from his dad,
That he snuck into school in his black book bag,
His black nail polish, black boots and black hair,
He's gonna blow away the bully that just pushed his ass...

[Lupe Fiasco]
I killed another man today,
Shot him in his back as he ran away,
Then I blew up his hut with a hand grenade,
Cut his wife's throat as she put her hands to pray,
Just five more dawgs then we can get a soccer ball,
That's what my commander say,
How Old?
Well I'm like ten, eleven, been fighting since I was like six or seven,
Now I don't know much about where I'm from but I know I strike fear everywhere I come,
Government want me dead so I wear my gun, I really want the rocket launcher but I'm still too young,
This candy give me courage not to fear no one,
To fear no pain, and hear no tongue,
So I hear no screams and I shed no tear,
If I'm in your dreams then your end is near.
Yeah

[Chorus - Nikki Jean]
Little Weapon,
Little Weapon,
Little Weapon
We're calling you
There's a war
if the guns are just too tall for you
We'll find you something small to use
Little Weapon, Little Weapon, Little Weapon
We need you now, pow

[Lupe Fiasco]
Now here comes the march of the boy brigade
A macabre Parade of the toys he made
And in Shimmer shades who looks half his age
About half the size of the flags they waved
And Camouflage suits that made to fit youths
'cause the ones of the dead soldiers hang a little loose
And AK-47's that they shooting into heaven
Like they're trying to kill the Jetson's
They struggle little recruits
Cute Smileless, Heartless, violent
Childhood destroyed, devoid of all childish ways,
Can't write their own names or read the words on their own graves
Think you gangster popped a few rounds,
These kids will come through and murder a whole town,
Then sit back and smoke and watch it burn down,
The grave gets deeper the further we go down

[Chorus]

[Bishop G]
Imagine if I had to console,
The family of those slain,
I slain on game consoles,
I aim I hold, right trigger to squeeze,
press up and Y one less nigga breathe,
B for the Bombs press pause for your moms,
Make the room silent, she don't approve of violent games,
She leaves resume activity,
Start and blew hearts with poor harsh wizardry,
On next part I insert code
To sweeten up the little person' murder workload
I tell him he work for
CIA with A
A operative, I operate this game all day
I hold a controller connected to the soldier
With weapons on his shoulder he's only seconds older than me
We playful but serious, now keep that on mind
for on line experience
 
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