Who the fuck is this?
pagin me at 5:46 in the mornin crack a dawnin
now I'm yawnin, wipe the cold out my eye
see who's this pagin me and why..
It's my nigga Pop from the barbershop
told me he was in the gamblin spot and heard the intricate plot
>some niggaz wanna stick you like fly paper neighbour
slow down love please chill drop the caper
>remember them niggaz from the hill up in Brownsville?
>that you rolled dice wit
>smoked the blunts and got nice wit
yeah my nigga Fame up in Prospect
nah dem my people nah love wouldn't disrespect
>I didn't day dem, they schooled me to some niggaz
>that you knew from back when,
>when you was clockin minor figures
>Now they heard you blowin up like nitro
>know they wanna stick the knife
>through your windpipe slow..
>so thank Fame for warnin me now I'm warnin you
>I got the mac Biggie
>tell me what you wanna do...

[CHORUS]
Damn niggas wanna stick me for my papers

[VERSE 2]
>They heard about the Rolex's and the Lexus
>wit the Texas license plate outta state
>they heard about the pounds
>you got down in Georgetown
>now they heard you got half of Virginia locked down
>they even heard about the crib
>you bought your moms out in Florida
>the fifth corridor....
Call the coroner
there's gonna be alot of slow singin
and flower bringin
if my burgular alarm starts ringin
whatcha think all the guns is for?
all purpose war got the rottweilers by the door
and I feed em gun powder so they can devour
The criminals tryin to drop my decimals
DAMN.. niggaz wanna stick my for my C.R.E.A.M.
and in a dream things ain't always how it seems
It's the ones that smoke blunts witcha
see your picture, now they wanna
grab they guns and come and getcha
Betcha Biggie won't slip
I got the calico with the black talions loaded in the clip
So I can rip through the ligaments
Put they bodies in a bad prediciment
where all the foul niggas went
Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta
Buck with what I had you with
you motherfuckers betta duck
I leave stains on blood of what remains
Had to jack-it, he had a gun he should've packed it
Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket
so I can reload and explode down ya rasshole
I fuck around and get hardcore, C-4 to ya door no beef no more(nigga)
Feel the rush, scandalous
The more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerous
I dont give a fuck about you or your weak crew
What you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you
im not runnin, nigga I bust my gun in
Hold on I hear somebody comin...

used to get feels on a bitch
Now I throw shields on the dick
To stop me from that HIV shit
And niggaz know they soft like a Twinkie filling
Playin the villian
Prepare for this rap killin
Biggie Smalls is the illest
Your style is played out, like Arnold wondered
"What you talkin bout Willis?"
The thrill is gone, the black Frank White
is here to excite and
throw dick to dykes
Bitches I like em brainless
Guns I like em stainless steel
I want the fuckin Fortune like the Wheel
I squeeze gats till my clips is empty
Don't tempt me [T-H-O-D
Man] You don't want to fuck with Biggie

Here I am, I'll be damned if this ain't some shit
Come to spread the butter lyrics over hominy grit
It's the low killer death trap, yes I'm a jet black ninja
Comin where you rest at, surrender
Step inside the ring, youse the number one contender
Lookin cold booty like your pussy in December
Nigga stop bitchin, button up ya lip and
From Method all you gettin is a can of ass-whippin
Hey, I'll be kickin, you son, you doin all the yappin
Actin as if it can't happen
You front and got me mad enough to touch somethin
Yo I'm from Shaolin, Island, and ain't afraid to bust somethin
So what cha want nigga, ya punk nigga
I got a six-shooter and a horse named Trigger
It's real, ninety-four, rugged raw
Kickin down your god damn door [and it goes a lil somethin like this]

Chorus:

Fuck the world, don't ask me for shit
And everything you get ya gotta work hard fot it
Honies shake your hips, ya don't stop
And niggaz pack the clips, keep on

Verse Two: Meth, Notorious

Verse two, comin with that Olde E brew
Meth-tical, puttin niggaz back in I.C.U.
I'm lifted troop, you can bring yours wack ass crew
I got connections, I'll get that ass stuck like glue, huh
No question, I be comin down and shit
Yo I gets rugged as a motherfuckin carpet get
And niggaz love it, not in the physical form but in the mental
I spark and they cells get warm
I'm not a gentle, man, I'm a Method, Man!
Baby accept it, utmost respect it
[Assume the position] Stop look and listen
I spit on your grave then I grab my Charles Dickens

Welcome to my center
Honies feel it deep in they placenta
Cold as the pole in the winter
Far from the inventor, but I got this rap shit sewed
And when my Mac unloads
I'm guaranteed another video
Ready to die, why I act that way?
Pop Duke left Mom Duke
The faggot took the back way
So instead of makin hoes suck my dick up
I used to do stick-up
Cause hoes is irritatin like the hic-CUPS
Excuse me, flows just grow through me
Like trees to branches
Cliffs to avalanches
It's the praying mantis
Deep like the mind of Farrakhan
A motherfuckin rap phenomenon, plus

[I got more glocks and techs than you]
I make it hot [Nigga won't even stand next to you]
Nigga touch me you better bust me
tree times in the head
Or motherfucker's dead, ya thought so

damm nigga thats some beautiful shit you just posted there james. enough to bring a tear to a nigga eye.

Why does this poetry move you so, jamesn? I'm serious. Please put it in terms your education and upbringing and social caste would find acceptable.

The game of chess, is like a swordfight
You must think first, before you move
Toad style is immensely strong, and immune to nearly any weapon
When it's properly used, it's almost invincible

[Verse One: U-God]

Raw I'ma give it to ya, with no trivia
Raw like cocaine straight from Bolivia
My hip-hop will rock and shock the nation
like the Emancipation Proclamation
Weak MC's approach with slang that's dead
you might as well run into the wall and bang your head
I'm pushin' force, my force your doubtin'
I'm makin' devils cower to the Caucus Mountains

[Verse Two: Inspectah Deck]

Well I'm a sire, I set the microphone on fire
Rap styles vary, and carry like Mariah
I come from the Shaolin slum, and the isle I'm from
is comin through with nuff niggaz, and nuff guns
so if you wanna come sweatin, stressin contestin
you'll catch a sharp sword to the midsection
Don't talk the talk, if you can't walk the walk
Phony niggaz are outlined in chalk
A man vexed, is what the projects made me
Rebel to the grain there's no way to barricade me
Steamrollin niggaz like a eighteen wheeler
with the drunk driver drivin, there's no survivin

[Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef]

Ruff like Timberland wear, yeah
Me and the Clan, and yo the Landcruisers out there
Peace to all the crooks, all the niggaz with bad looks
Bald heads, braids, blow this hook
We got chrome tecs, nickel plated macs
Black axe, drug dealin styles in phat stacks
I only been a good nigga for a minute though
cuz I got to get my props, and win it yo
I got beef wit commercial-ass niggaz with gold teeth
lampin in a Lexus eatin beef
Straight up and down don't even bother
I got fourty niggaz up in here now, who kill niggaz fathers

[Chorus: Method Man]

My peoples are you with me where you at?
In the front, in the back killa-bees on attack
my peoples are you with me where you at?
Smokin meth hittin caps on the block with the gats

[Verse Four: Ol' Dirty Bastard]

Here I go, deep type flow
Jacque Cousteau could never get this low..I'm
cherry bombin shits... BOOM
Just warmin up a little bit, vroom vroom
Rappinin is what's happenin
Keep the pockets stacked and then, hands clappin and
At the party when I move my body
Gotta get up, and be-eeeee somebody!
Grab the microphone put strength to the bone
DUH-DUH-DUH...enter the Wu-Tang zone
Sure enough when I rock that stuff
Guff puff?? I'm gonna catch your bluff tuff
rough, kickin rhymes like Jim Kelly
or Alex Haley im a Mi-..Beetle Bailey rhymes
comin raw style, hardcore
Niggaz be comin to the hip-hop store
Comin to buy gro-cery from me
Tryin to be a hip-hop MC
The law, in order to enter the Wu-Tang
You must bring the Ol' Dirty Bastard type slang
Represent the GZA, Abbott, RZA, Shaquan, Inspectah Deck
Dirty Hoe gettin low wit his flow
Introducin, the Ghost..face.. Killah!!
No one could get illa

[Chorus]

[Verse Five: Ghostface Killah]

Speakin of the devil psych, no it's the God, get the shit right
Mega trife, and yo I killed you in a past life
On the mic while you was kickin that fast shit
You reneged tried again, and got blasted
Half mastered ass style mad ruff task
When I struck I had on Timbs and a black mask
Remember that shit? I know you don't remember jack
That night yo I wuz hittin like a spiked bat
and then you thought I was bugged out, and crazy
strapped for nonsense, after me became lazy
Yo, nobody budge while I shot slugs
Never shot thugs, I'm runnin with thugs that flood mugs
So grab your eight plus one, start flippin and trippin
Niggaz is jettin I'm lickin off son

(Wu, Tang, Wu, Tang, Wu, Tang, Wu, Tang!!!!)

[Verse Six: Masta Killa]

Homicide's illegal and death is the penalty
What justifies the homicide, when he dies?
In his own iniquity it's the
Master of the Mantis Rapture comin at cha
We have an APB on an MC Killer
Looks like the work of a Master
Evidence indicates that's it's stature
Merciless like a terrorist hard to capture
The flow, changes like a chameleon
Plays like a friend, and stabs you like a dagger
This technique attacks the immune system
Disguised like a lie paralyzin the victim
You scream, as it enters your bloodstream
Erupts your brain from the pain these thoughts contain
Novin on a nigga with the speed of a centipede
and injure - ANY MOTHERFUCKIN CONTENDER

Raw I'ma give it to ya

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UEPF2CNYkfk


I still love this fuckin vid wu

Word on block is that half the King Killer Beez
rap's under seige, Guyanese guns
I got European funds, my ice don't melt
Shaolin is felt, mathematics is my rod
and my staff, I pray like this
I break mics in half, shit realism
Fuck Moet and baguettes, that get paid off
or get laid off, I spray New York
I'm an angel, at war with the rappers
Good black women sleep over at Cappa's
I fall into it, Mr. September
Rock my long FUBU shirt in the winter
I respect my kind, plus pack a nine
Daytime outfit superb outlet
Staten Isle in effect, y'all in the manor
If you can feel Don down it Atlanta
I'm a poet, my work is never done
Law of Park Hill, my mic is stage one
Fifty-five tribes, in Psalms 30
Caution, sometimes my thoughts get dirty
Somethin precise, hold back the pressure
My unit too nice, you only got one life
to live, think twice
(Think twice think twice twice twice twice)

My man Inf left a Tec and a nine at my crib

Turned himself in, he had to do a bid

A one-to-three, he be home the end of '93

I'm ready to get this paper, G, you with me?



Motherfucking right, my pocket's looking kind of tight

and I'm stressed, yo Biggie let me get the vest



No need for that, just grab the fucking gat

The first pocket that's fat the Tec is to his back

Word is bond, I'm a smoke him yo don't fake no moves (what?)

Treat it like boxing: stick and move, stick and move



Nigga, you ain't got to explain shit

I've been robbin motherfuckers since the slave ships

with the same clip and the same four-five

Two point-blank, a motherfucker's sure to die

That's my word, nigga even try to bogart

have his mother singing "It's so hard..."



Yes, love love you're fucking attitude

because the nigga play pussy that's the nigga that's getting
screwed

and bruised up from the pistol whipping

webs on the neck from the necklace stripping

Then I'm dipping up the block and I'm robbing bitches too

up the herring bones and bamboos

I wouldn't give fuck if you're pregnant

Give me the baby rings and a #1 MOM pendant



I'm slamming niggaz like Shaquille, shit is real

When it's time to eat a meal I rob and steal

'cos Mom Duke ain't giving me shit

so for the bread and butter I leave niggaz in the gutter

Huh, word to mother, I'm dangerous

Crazier than a bag of fucking Angel Dust

When I bust my gat motherfuckers take dirt naps

I'm all that and a dime sack, where the payback?



[Verse Two:]



Big up, big up, it's a stick up, stick up

and I'm shooting niggaz quick if you hiccup

Don't let me fill my clip up in your back and head piece

The opposite of peace sending Mom Duke a wreath

You're talking to the robbery expert

Stepping to your wake with your blood on my shirt

Don't be a jerk and get smoked over being resistant

'cos when I lick shots the shits is persistent



Huh, goodness gracious the papers

Where the cash at? Where the stash at?

Nigga, pass that before you get your grave dug

from the main thug, .357 slug

And my nigga Biggie got an itchy one grip



One in the chamber, 32 in the clip

Motherfuckers better strip, yeah nigga peel

before you find out how blue steel feel



from the Beretta, putting all the holes in your sweater

The money getter motherfuckers don't have better

Rolex watches and colourful Swatches

I'm digging in pockets, motherfuckers can't stop it



Man, niggaz come through I'm taking high school rings too

Bitches get stripped down for they earrings and bangles

and when I rock her and drop her I'm taking her door knockers


And if she's resistant "baka! baka! baka!"



So go get your man bitch he can get robbed too



Tell him Biggie took it, what the fuck he gonna do?



I hope apologetic or I'm a have to set it

and if I set it the cocksucker won't forget it



[Verse Three:]



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 bitch 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 bitch act shocked, gettin 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 lookin?) I guess to get his life
tooken

I just came home, ain't trying to see Central Booking

Oh shit, now he lookin 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

[Hi-C]
Straight Outta Locash
A crazy mothafucka named Gusto
I fucked ya wife, cause the bitch is a big hoe
I fucked ya sister, I fucked ya cat
I would have fucked ya mom but the bitch is too fat!
When I'm in ya neighborhood, ya betta dig a moat
cause I'm comin to slit... ya motherfuckin throat!
Blood is drippin, I'm not slippin
Bitches panties, is what I'm rippin
Rollin faster than a motherfuckin dirt bike
Never met a piece of pussy that I didn't like
Like to eat it, like to suck it
Take a shit... in a bucket; Straight Outta Locash!!!

Crazy motherfuckers, hah hah!
(Where you from, nigga?)

[Daddy-O]
Comin straight out of Locash,
a crazy motherfucker named Dead Mike
So get ready cause you're goin for a long hike
off a cliff, I'm drivin you over
Now ya dead with ya fo' leaf clover
Float like a cannonball, sting like a shark
I'm the nigga waitin for you in the dark
Waitin to rob you, waitin to beat you
A bullet in ya head is how I greet you (whassup nigga?)
A villain with a hat, and it's like that
I tied yo' moms to a motherfuckin train track
Flat on her back, I give her some crack
It's ten o'clock - DO YOU KNOW WHERE YO MOMS IS AT?
At my house (doin what?) wipin her ass
She had to move... STRAIGHT OUTTA LOCASH!!!

[scratches til fade]

As we proceed
To give you what you need
9 to 5 motherfuckers
Get live motherfuckers -- 2x

As we proceed
To give you what you need
East coast motherfuckers
Bad boy motherfuckers

Big - now turn the mics up
Turn that mic up, yea that beat is knockin
To that microphone
Turn that shit the fuck up
Uh, what?
Turn it up louder
Yea, uh

As we proceed, to give you
What you need
J.m. motherfuckers
J.m. motherfuckers
9 to 5 motherfuckers

Verse one:

Who shot ya?
Seperate the weak from the ob-solete
Hard to creep them brooklyn streets
Its on nigga, fuck all that bickering beef
I can hear sweat trickling down your cheek
Your heartbeat soun like sasquatch feet
Thundering, shaking the concrete
Finish it, stop, when I foil the plot
Neighbors call the cops said they heard mad shots
Saw me in the drop, three in the corner

Slaughter, electrical tape around your daughter
Old school new school need to learn though
I burn baby burn like disco inferno
Burn slow like blunts with ya-yo
Peel more skins than idaho potato
Niggaz know, the lyrics molestin is takin place
Fuckin with b.i.g. it aint safe
I make your skin chafe, rashes on the masses
Bumps and bruises, blunts and landcruisers
Big poppa smash fools, bash fools
Niggaz mad because I know that cash rules
Everything around me, two glock nines
Any motherfucker whispering about mines
And im, crooklyns finest
You rewind this, bad boys behind this

Interlude:

As we proceed
To give you what you need
9 to 5 motherfuckers
Get live motherfuckers

As we proceed
To give you what you need
East coast motherfuckers
Bad boy motherfuckers

Get high motherfuckers
Get high motherfuckers
Smoke blunts motherfuckers
Get high motherfuckers
Ready to die motherfuckers
9 to 5 motherfuckers

Verse two:

I seen the light excite all the freaks
Stack mad chips, spread love with my peeps
Niggaz wanna creep, got ta watch my back
Think the cognac and indo sack make me slack?
I switches all that, cock-sucker gs up
One false move, get swiss cheesed up
Clip to tec, respect I demand it
Slip and break the, 11th commandment
Thou shalt not fuck with raw c-poppa
Feel a thosand deaths when I drop ya
I feel for you, like chaka khan Im the don
Pussy when I want rolex on the arm
Youll die slow but calm
Recognize my face, so there wont be no mistake
So you know where to tell jake, lame nigga
Brave nigga, turned front page nigga
Puff daddy flips daily
I smoke the blunts he sips on the baileys
On the rocks, tote glocks at christenings
And my cock, in the fire position and...

(get live motherfuckers
Ready to die motherfuckers)

Cmere, cmere [it aint gotta be like that big]
Open your fucking mouth, open your... didnt I tell you
Dont fuck with me? [*muffled* cmon man] huh?
Didnt I tell you not to fuck with me?
(as we proceed) [cmon man] look at you now
(to give you what you need) huh? [cmon man]
(9 to 5 motherfuckers) cant talk with a gun in your mouth huh?
(get live motherfuckers) bitch-ass nigga, what?
(get live motherfuckers) [*muffled sounds, six gun shots*]
(as we proceed...) who shot ya?

...to give you what you need
9 to 5 motherfuckers
Get live motherfuckers

(who shot ya? )

Get high motherfuckers
Ready to die motherfuckers
Hah!!
As we proceed...

(who shot ya? )

...to give you what you need
9 to 5 motherfuckers
East coast motherfuckers

(who shot ya? )

West coast motherfuckers...
West coast motherfuckers... hah!
As we proceed, to give you what you need
As we proceed
To give you what you need
Get live motherfuckers
9 to 5 motherfuckers
Get money motherfuckers

As we proceed
To give you what you need
Get live motherfuckers
9 to 5 motherfuckers
J.m. motherfuckers
J.m. motherfuckers
As we proceeeeeeed
To give you what you need...
9 to 5...

Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five - The Message

Broken glass everywhere
People pissing on the stairs, you know they just
Dont care
I cant take the smell, I cant take the noise
Got no money to move out, I guess I got no choice
Rats in the front room, roaches in the back
Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat
I tried to get away, but I couldnt get far
Cause the man with the tow-truck repossessed my car
Chorus:
Dont push me, cause Im close to the edge
Im trying not to loose my head
Its like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder
How I keep from going under

Standing on the front stoop, hangin out the window
Watching all the cars go by, roaring as the breezes
Blow
Crazy lady, livin in a bag
Eating out of garbage piles, used to be a fag-hag
Search and test a tango, skips the life and then go
To search a prince to see the last of senses
Down at the peepshow, watching all the creeps
So she can tell the stories to the girls back home
She went to the city and got so so so ditty
She had to get a pimp, she couldnt make it on her
Own

Chorus:
Its like a jungle sometimes, it makes me wonder
How I keep from goin under

My brothers doing fast on my mothers t.v.
Says she watches to much, is just not healthy
All my children in the daytime, dallas at night
Cant even see the game or the sugar ray fight
Bill collectors they ring my phone
And scare my wife when Im not home
Got a bum education, double-digit inflation
Cant take the train to the job, theres a strike
At the station
Me on king kong standin on my back
Cant stop to turn around, broke my sacroiliac
Midrange, migraine, cancered membrane
Sometimes I think Im going insane, I swear I might
Hijack a plane!

Chorus:

My son said daddy I dont wanna go to school
Cause the teachers a jerk, he must think Im a
Fool
And all the kids smoke reefer, I think itd be
Cheaper
If I just got a job, learned to be a street sweeper
I dance to the beat, shuffle my feet
Wear a shirt and tie and run with the creeps
Cause its all about money, aint a damn thing
Funny
You got to have a con in this land of milk and
Honey
They push that girl in front of a train
Took her to a doctor, sowed the arm on again
Stabbed that man, right in his heart
Gave him a transplant before a brand new start
I cant walk through the park, cause its crazy
After the dark
Keep my hand on the gun, cause they got me on the
Run
I feel like an outlaw, broke my last fast jaw
Hear them say you want some more, livin on a
Seesaw

Chorus:

A child was born, with no state of mind
Blind to the ways of mankind
God is smiling on you but hes frowning too
Cause only God knows what you go through
You grow in the ghetto, living second rate
And your eyes will sing a song of deep hate
The places you play and where you stay
Looks like one great big alley way
Youll admire all the number book takers
Thugs, pimps, pushers and the big money makers
Driving big cars, spending twenties and tens
And you wanna grow up to be just like them
Smugglers, scrambles, burglars, gamblers
Pickpockets, peddlers and even pan-handlers
You say Im cool, Im no fool
But then you wind up dropping out of high school
Now youre unemployed, all null n void
Walking around like youre pretty boy floyd
Turned stickup kid, look what you done did
Got send up for a eight year bid
Now your man is took and youre a may tag
Spend the next two years as an undercover fag
Being used and abused, and served like hell
Till one day you was find hung dead in a cell
It was plain to see that your life was lost
You was cold and your body swung back and forth
But now your eyes sing the sad sad song
Of how you lived so fast and died so young

Chorus