Author Topic: Your single favourite verses in Hip Hop.  (Read 1472 times)

Re: Your single favourite verses in Hip Hop.
« Reply #30 on: July 13, 2009, 10:19:42 PM »
Oooh a hard question to pin down, I think today it is Kool Keith's 1st verse on Poppa Large.

I keep in shape and do my physical fitness
Your head's numb, so your brains a miss this
Pick 'em up, eat 'em up, pick 'em up, beat 'em up
Pick 'em up pimplehead, pick 'em up picky
I roll with clouds and I come real sticky
Ripping the mic, I plug it up in your ears
Crazed and brewer. I'm coming out like beers
Like Rheingold, Miller, Coors, and Buds
I'm a eat 'em wit popcorn and treat 'em like suds you duds
Coming out the wick wack, wicky, wickable wack
Black jack, that's a fact, right & exact behind your back
The funk rhyming master, blaster
Kicking up in a brainstorm, rainstorm
Rap storm, rap form
Rap time, rap rhyme
Rap class, I'm here to fail and to pass
To continue, furthermore on the hype tip
I roll and rock, rock and roll
Jazz and pop, rhythm and Blues
Dance and fusion, pain confusion
Look at the lights, what a night on the town
I'm Poppa Large, big shot on the East coast

Funcrusher

  • Been shot up more times than Tom Mix
Re: Your single favourite verses in Hip Hop.
« Reply #31 on: July 14, 2009, 12:56:01 AM »
Mos Def - Mathematics

Yo, it's one universal law but two sides to every story
Three strikes and you be in for life, mandatory
Four MC's murdered in the last four years
I ain't tryin to be the fifth one, the millenium is here
Yo it's 6 Million Ways to Die, from the seven deadly thrills
Eight-year olds gettin found with 9 mill's
It's 10 P.M., where your seeds at? What's the deal
They on the hill puffin krill to keep they belly filled
Light in the ass with heavy steel, sights on the pretty shit in life
Young soldiers tryin to earn they next stripe
When the average minimum wage is $5.15
You best believe you gotta find a new grind to get cream
The white unemployment rate, is nearly more than triple for black
so frontliners got they gun in your back
Bubblin crack, jewel theft and robbery to combat poverty
and end up in the global jail economy
Stiffer stipulations attached to each sentence
Budget cutbacks but increased police presence
And even if you get out of prison still livin
join the other five million under state supervision
This is business, no faces just lines and statistics
from your phone, your zip code, to S-S-I digits
The system break man child and women into figures
Two columns for who is, and who ain't niggaz
Numbers is hardly real and they never have feelings
but you push too hard, even numbers got limits
Why did one straw break the camel's back? Here's the secret:
the million other straws underneath it - it's all mathematics


Re: Your single favourite verses in Hip Hop.
« Reply #32 on: July 14, 2009, 11:17:19 AM »
I see the microphone and grab it
No, you can't have it back, silly rabbit.


Makes me smile every single time.

Re: Your single favourite verses in Hip Hop.
« Reply #33 on: July 17, 2009, 12:16:30 PM »
Telegram to Hip Hop: Dear Hip Hop .(stop). This shit has gone too far. (stop). Please see that mixer and turntables are returned to Kool Herc. (stop). The ghettos are dancing off beat. (stop). The master of ceremonies have forgotten that they were once slaves and have neglected the occasion of this ceremony. (stop). Perhaps we should not have encouraged them to use cordless microphones, for they have walked too far from the source and are emitting a lesser frequency (stop). Please inform all interested parties that cash nor murder have been added to the list of elements. (stop). We are discontinuing our current line of braggadocio, in light of the current trend in "realness". (stop). As an alternative, we will be confiscating weed supplies and replacing them with magic mushrooms, in hopes of helping niggas see beyond their reality. (stop). Give my regards to Brooklyn.

Saul Williams - Telegram

Re: Your single favourite verses in Hip Hop.
« Reply #34 on: July 17, 2009, 07:15:11 PM »
Telegram to Hip Hop: Dear Hip Hop .(stop). This shit has gone too far. (stop). Please see that mixer and turntables are returned to Kool Herc. (stop). The ghettos are dancing off beat. (stop). The master of ceremonies have forgotten that they were once slaves and have neglected the occasion of this ceremony. (stop). Perhaps we should not have encouraged them to use cordless microphones, for they have walked too far from the source and are emitting a lesser frequency (stop). Please inform all interested parties that cash nor murder have been added to the list of elements. (stop). We are discontinuing our current line of braggadocio, in light of the current trend in "realness". (stop). As an alternative, we will be confiscating weed supplies and replacing them with magic mushrooms, in hopes of helping niggas see beyond their reality. (stop). Give my regards to Brooklyn.

Saul Williams - Telegram
This is terrible.



Off the dome, some of my faves...

Cappadonna - Raekwon's Winter Warz:

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
Bitch, 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


Both verses off Virginia by the Clipse

Anything by Jigga when he used to do that smirky rap thing.

Nutmeg by Ghost. He seems to have just writen down a load of unconnected words and read them out, but it sounds better than any other rapper could have made it sound:

Scientific, my hand kissed it
Robotic let's think optimistic
You probably missed it, watch me dolly dick it
Scotty watty cop it to me, big microphone hippie
Hit Poughkepsie crispy chicken verbs throw up a stone richie
Chop the O, sprinkle a lil' snow inside a Optimo
Swing the John McEnroe, rap rock'n'roll
Tidy Bowl, gung-ho pro, Starsky with the gumsole
Hit the rump slow, parole kids, live Rapunzel
but Ton' stizzy really high, the vivid laser eye guide
Jump in the Harley ride, Clarks I freak a lemon pie
I'm bout it, bout it - Lord forgive me, Ms. Sally shouted
Tracey got shot in the face, my house was overcrowded
You fake cats done heard it first
On how I shitted on your turf
at times, Cuban Link verse yo
Check out the rap kingpin, summertime fine jewelry drippin
Face in the box, I seen your ear twitchin
As soon as I drove off, Cap' came to me with three sawed-offs
Give one to Rae', let's season they broth
Lightning rod fever heaters, knock-kneeder Sheeba for hiva
Diva got rocked from the receiver bleeder
Portfolio, lookin fancy in the pantry
My man got bigger dimes son, your shit is scampi
Base that, throw what's in your mouth, don't waste that
See Ghost lampin in the throne with King Tut hat
Straight off


And this by Wayne

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3osvFMFXhWI

An almost perfect bit of rap. It's (as usual) all about the swagger, but this has brilliant lyrics, wordplay and flow. It baffles me when people say that Weezy isn't talented.