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Is this the greatest rap line of all time?


hungry joe
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[Verse 1: Ill Bill]

Yo, yo, yo

I been an outlaw and a gambler long as I can remember

Drink whiskey from a bottle and always carry a banger

Poker-faced womanizer, bank robber, and legend

My name ring bells across the frontier when I’m mentioned

When I step foot in the saloon I get a lot of attention

I reckon these haters are threatened by the strength of my weapon

The speed of my bullets, you want to taste the heater I’ll pull it

I’m a goon with the golden six-shooter and a mullet

Four dead, jump up on top the bar then shout

If anybody else want drama then pop it off now

How many times this situation happened I can’t remember

So I turned twenty-one and got drunk with the bartender

Gunslingers think they’re Clint Eastwood, I’m like Jesse James

Ride up on a pony, dump six in their face

Twisting their frames like tumbleweeds, blister their brains

Then bounce to the whorehouse for more whiskey and things

[Verse 2: Goretex]

Like Navajos and Mayans, wrap the skin of tigers for battle

Feeding the cows like Josey Wales, I hold it down with two barrels

Back to the tarots, prostitution rackets in Paris

Sippin’ cactus, dippin’ on stallions

My corduroys are blood-splattered

Decapitated, my spurs carve like taxiderm

Torch the mayor, jacked on his wife, and let his carriage burn

Numerous moonshine runs in Kentucky

Keep the powder up in the ten gallon in case I get lucky

Old medicine man on his porch staring at comets

Four horsemen, we riding through your prairie like shamans

Close to the dream, shot up the voting machine, it’s progress

Kidnap the senator’s daughter, penetrate her with objects

Whiskey bottles and twist-offs, killers, no conscience

It’s either dead or in jail, it’s high noon for the convicts

The bloody sickle strapped to my chaps is congress

It’s a glory rhyme, this battle hymn, sun on a compass (?)

[Chorus: Necro]

The horsemen are drawing nearer, on our leather steeds we ride

We’ve come to take your life

All through the dead of night, with the four horsemen, ride

Or choose your fate and die

[Verse 3: Necro]

There’s no law, spitting phlegm on the floor

In clappin’, I’ll test you, skin that smoke wagon

See what happens

I’m tired of your gas, jerk that pistol and go to work

Throw down boy, I’ll bitchslap you till your lip-blood squirts

My aiming is more than precise when I slay men

We both got gats, let’s play for blood, just say when

Let’s settle this so we’re crystal clear on who’s the nicest and fastest ever

I’m the deadliest pistoleer

There’s no future for dumbfucks after my gun bucks

Smooth when I’m maneuvering my six-shooter like nun chucks

Shooting clowns in their faces, then drinks are on me

Piano man, Stephen Foster. Camptown Races

I’m down to dump anywhere, I’m far from a punk

I got two guns, one for each one of you when I’m drunk

Watch out when the squads out, don’t you ever try

To manhandle the cavel, we’ll cut your fucking pimp’s heart out

[Verse 4: Mr. Hyde]

O.K. Coral style, shootouts at sundown

I’m taking ten paces, splatter faces with the rounds

Quickdraw like Will Carver with the forty-four revolver

Got a fist full of dollars once I started robbing Harvard

The tombstone terrorist bucking down my nemesis

Creeping in the crevices, a wanted man ever since

Sixteen, blamed for the murder of a deputy

Robbed thirty banks and they’re never close to catching me

Draw and fire first, your destiny’s inside the dirt

Cause my trigger finger’s faster than the hands of Wyatt Earp

I’ll stumble in a bar, guns and bourbon in my clutches

Five card stud catching straights and raw flushes

Wild bunch, horsemen, the fugitive outlaw

With double-barreled action, son I’ll shoot at you southpaw

Young guns with toast out, always the most foul

Riding through your streets, turn your hood to a ghost town

[Chorus]

Take your pick. Amazing where rap can go when it's not just about bitches and bling.

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Check it, I'm the fuckin man, who they mention

Notice, that other niggaz rap styles is bogus

Doo-doo, prepare for this verse Tical voodoo

Blazin, the stuff that ignites stimulation

Inside ya, cuz I be that house over water

forgot in the realm that be deep as the Poseidon

adventure, niggaz need to touch they freakin picture

For the sickness, that be spreadin with the quickness

Remedies, cousin I be doin on my enemies

Penalty, then I drink forties to they memories

Emotion, rushin through your down street vicinity

Blunt smoke, in the air reveals my identity

Method man - Release Yo' delf.

I love that flow bolded.

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Organized Konfusion, Stray Bullet. Pharaohe Monch:

Let the trigger finger put the pressure to the mechanism

Which gives a response, for the automatic

Clip to release projectiles in single

File forcing me to ignite then travel

Through the barrel, headed for the light

At the end of a tunnel, with no specific target in sight

Slow the flow like H2o water

Visualize, the scene of a homicide, a slaughter

No remorse for the course I take when you pull it

The result's a stray bullet

N****s who knew hit the ground runnin and stay down

Except for the kids who played on the playground

Cause for some little girl she'll never see

More than six years of life, trif-le-ing

When she fell from the see-saw

But umm wait, my course isn't over

Fled out of the other side of her head towards

A red, range, rover, then I ricochet

Fast past a brother's ass, oh damn, what that n**** say

Aww fuck it, next target's Margaret's face

And I struck it

Now there's a flood of blood in circumference to her face

And an abundance of brains all over the street

Shame how we had to meet

Dashing, bucking, meet my fucking family

They follow behind me in a orderly fashion

Bashing through flesh I'm wild

Crashin through the doors of projects hallways

To deflect off of the tile

I'm coming for you little girl

Once inside I shatter your world

Swirl, no more dreams no hopes when I spray

You better pray, to the pope or the vatican

Before I go rat-tat-a-tat again

I'm mad again brother somebody's mother will be sad again

But, whose blue skies will turn grey

From the attack, of the Mac-11, I'm a stray, bullet

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Yeah, I can remember like back then, son

You didn't have to worry about a knife or a gun

You balled up your fist like a man and fought your fight

And kept your left up if your brother taught you right

Word, back then, a fist was your best weapon

So you threw up your hands instead of just steppin

And if you lost, you lived to fight another day

I heard a brother say, now there's no other way

To win a fight except to use a bullet

"a trigger makes me feel bigger when I pull it"

he said, I just shook my head at this

And that's what made me wanna reminisce

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  • 2 months later...

You know the evil that men do, hell is where the men go

We snatched him by his hands and feet and threw him out the window

Up, up, up, up and away cause I don't play, clown

Buck, buck, buck, and take that with you on your way down

I'm hoping you got springs or wings on your shoes

But you lose, because I gots the Ill Street Blues

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Amazing where rap can go when it's not just about bitches and bling.

We cultivated the lost art of study and I brought a buddy: Automator, hardened slayer, fascinating combinations, cyber warlords are activating abominations.

We cultivated the lost art of study and I brought a buddy

Automator harder slayer fascinating combinations

Cyber warlords are activating abominations

Arm a nation with hatred we ain't with that

We high-tech archeologists searching for nicknacks

Composing musical stimpacks that impacts the song

Crack the motor what you think you rappin for?

I used to be a mech soldier but I didn't respect orders

I had to step forward, tell them this ain't for us

Living in a post-apocalyptic world morbid and horrid

The secrets of the past they hoarded

Now we just boarded on a futuristic spacecraft

No mistakes black it's our music we must take back

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I duunno about the best lines but I've always loved these lines:

Raw I'm gonna give it to you, with no trivia

Raw like cocaine straight from Bolivia

My hip-hop will rock and shock the nation

like the Emancipation Proclamation

and

Here I go, deep type flow

Jacque Cousteau could never get this low..

In fact the whole track is just great

"Da Mystery Of Chessboxin'"

[Wu-Tang movie dialogue]

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'm gonna give it to you, 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 coming through with nuff niggas and nuff guns

so if you wanna come sweating, stressing, contesting

you'll catch a sharp sword to the midsection

Don't talk the talk, if you can't walk the walk

Phony niggas are outlined in chalk

A man vexed, is what the projects made me

Rebel to the grain there's no way to barricade me

Steamrolling niggas like a eighteen wheeler

with the drunk driver driving, there's no surviving

[Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef]

Rough like Timberland wear, yeah

Me and the Clan, and you're the Landcruisers out there

Peace to all the crooks, all the niggas with bad looks

Bald heads, braids, blow this hook

We got chrome tecs, nickel plated macs

Black axe, drug dealing styles in phat stacks

I've only been a good nigga for a minute though

'cause I got to get my props, and win it you

I got beef with commercial-ass niggas with gold teeth

lampin in a Lexus eating beef

Straight up and down don't even bother

I got forty niggas up in here now, who kill niggas fathers

[Chorus: Method Man]

My peoples are you with me, where you at?

In the front, in the back killer-bees on attack

my people are you with me, where you at?

Smoking meth hitting cats 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 bombing shits... BOOM

Just warming up a little bit, vroom vroom

Rappinin is what's happening

Keep the pockets stacked and then, hands clapping and

At the party when I move my body

Gotta get up, and be somebody!

Grab the microphone go straight to the phone

DUH-DUH-DUH...enter the Wu-Tang zone

Sure enough when I rock that stuff

Guff puff? I'm gonna catch your bluff tough

rough, kicking rhymes like Jim Kelly

or Alex Haley I'm a Mi-..Beetle Bailey rhymes

coming raw style, hardcore

Niggas be coming to the hip-hop store

Coming to buy grocery from me

Trying 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 getting low with his flow

Introducing, the Ghost..face.. Killer!!

No one could get iller

[Chorus]

[Verse Five: Ghostface Killah]

Speaking of the devil psych, no it's the God, get the shit right

Mega trife, and you're I killed you in a past life

On the mic while you was kicking 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 was hitting 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 running with thugs that flood mugs

So grab your eight plus one, start flipping and tripping

Niggas is jetting I'm licking 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 coming at you

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 paralyzing the victim

You scream as it enters your bloodstream

Erupts your brain from the pain these thoughts contain

Moving on a nigga with the speed of a centipede

and injure - ANY MOTHERFUCKING CONTENDER

[Chorus]

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I duunno about the best lines but I've always loved these lines:

and

In fact the whole track is just great

"Da Mystery Of Chessboxin'"

[Wu-Tang movie dialogue]

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'm gonna give it to you, 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 coming through with nuff niggas and nuff guns

so if you wanna come sweating, stressing, contesting

you'll catch a sharp sword to the midsection

Don't talk the talk, if you can't walk the walk

Phony niggas are outlined in chalk

A man vexed, is what the projects made me

Rebel to the grain there's no way to barricade me

Steamrolling niggas like a eighteen wheeler

with the drunk driver driving, there's no surviving

[Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef]

Rough like Timberland wear, yeah

Me and the Clan, and you're the Landcruisers out there

Peace to all the crooks, all the niggas with bad looks

Bald heads, braids, blow this hook

We got chrome tecs, nickel plated macs

Black axe, drug dealing styles in phat stacks

I've only been a good nigga for a minute though

'cause I got to get my props, and win it you

I got beef with commercial-ass niggas with gold teeth

lampin in a Lexus eating beef

Straight up and down don't even bother

I got forty niggas up in here now, who kill niggas fathers

[Chorus: Method Man]

My peoples are you with me, where you at?

In the front, in the back killer-bees on attack

my people are you with me, where you at?

Smoking meth hitting cats 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 bombing shits... BOOM

Just warming up a little bit, vroom vroom

Rappinin is what's happening

Keep the pockets stacked and then, hands clapping and

At the party when I move my body

Gotta get up, and be somebody!

Grab the microphone go straight to the phone

DUH-DUH-DUH...enter the Wu-Tang zone

Sure enough when I rock that stuff

Guff puff? I'm gonna catch your bluff tough

rough, kicking rhymes like Jim Kelly

or Alex Haley I'm a Mi-..Beetle Bailey rhymes

coming raw style, hardcore

Niggas be coming to the hip-hop store

Coming to buy grocery from me

Trying 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 getting low with his flow

Introducing, the Ghost..face.. Killer!!

No one could get iller

[Chorus]

[Verse Five: Ghostface Killah]

Speaking of the devil psych, no it's the God, get the shit right

Mega trife, and you're I killed you in a past life

On the mic while you was kicking 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 was hitting 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 running with thugs that flood mugs

So grab your eight plus one, start flipping and tripping

Niggas is jetting I'm licking 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 coming at you

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 paralyzing the victim

You scream as it enters your bloodstream

Erupts your brain from the pain these thoughts contain

Moving on a nigga with the speed of a centipede

and injure - ANY MOTHERFUCKING CONTENDER

[Chorus]

Probably my favourite Wu track. ^_^

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Doom gives loads to chose from, but to pick one:

Read the signs, "No Feeding The Baboons"

Seeing as how they gotcha back bleeding from the stab wounds

I'm also partial to Guru (RIP)'s killer laconic delivery of often very simple lyrics:

Bitch you don't even know, the half about me

I bring it straight to your chest - ask your staff about me

Oh, and what's that Mystikal? Something respectful of women's feelings I hope!

[i'll] fuck you like I ate my VEGETABLES.

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  • 1 year later...

Listening to the Roots right now and reminded of this thread

Yeah, I'm from the illest part of the Western Hemisphere

So if you into sight seein don't visit there

It's somewhere between Jersey and Delaware

Philly never scared and them niggaz ain't timid there

Them young triggers lose lives by the minute there

It might start but the fight never finish there

They all fucked up tryin to get the gingerbread

A few stacks be the price for a nigga's head

Cops and robbers, cowboys and indians

Clips and revolvers and George's and Benjamin's

A celebration of the loss of your innocence

To you old self you've lost any resemblance

They say the city make a dark impression

The youth just lost and they want direction

But they don't get the police, they get the protection

And walk around with heat like Charlton Heston, man

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