Lyra**ist Lounge

[Headwarmaz]

This is where we post the best lyrics in hip hop history...so we can show some of these kids what it's supposed to be like.... ya dig?

[Headwarmaz]

Lyra**ist Lounge

Artist: Typical Cats
Album: Typical Cats
Song: Cliche

(qwel)
See Qwels way past math to drop techs on future prospects
Never got toys like Christmas in the projects
Your rock sets is play this dude braggin' you aint famous
Tighter than vacuums and gets looser than faggots anus
Doper emcees none existent like RuPaul's clit is
Cant tell if your dick or pussy like topless infants
Couldn't spit sick 'ish kid lickin' your cold sores
And leave you scared to drop shit like school stalls with no doors
Wonder how this f***er whispers thunder sounds
Your fly like crippled Ostrich's I scare heads underground
And break it down like midget B-boys screamin' mathematics
When style switches faster than faggots rockin' their thongs backwards
Ask if I'll kill your career with one verse
You couldn't beat me to death if I let you jump first
He's a pussy on the low don't f*** with Philippine cuisine
Deeper than Mexican philosophy and Chevy submarines
What's he mean I think he means your whack beat
In fact I'm harder to catch than hailin' taxis with black peeps
Get in your a** so fast shit scabs when the cops come
Guilty as charged blowin' minds like Shanno(?) with shotguns
Hold nuts like padded rooms whack raps cant plead insanity
Just cause I stand over you don't mean you understand me
Man please I'm way to f***ing dope to be this humble
And knock you out the frame like Christmas pictures with your drunk uncle
Like f*** Qwel and his whole team those irrelevant flows
I'm diggin' in the crates and these (??) on telephone poles
Hope I might choke your as whack as you white jokes
The only cat to drop lines like Samoans on tight ropes
Motherf***ers can't even respond what can he say
Cause after the battle he's more like "yo I ain't wanna win anyway "
And Qwel ain't shit like I ain't lose he ain't even rappin' right
Damn right I'm an a**hole you pussies ain't even half as tight
To and fro fluid flow you know I'm splittin' speakers
Try pressin' promos on boomerangs them shits is cheaper

*Sample*
(scratch) Punch Lines (scratch) Now'n days it's the ways of the underground
If I don't stay on the rest(?) tell me who the hell will
When it really comes down to it two kids
*Sample*

Before braggin' how big my dick was this Bic-smudged note pad
Was dad to whip his a** and change his whole fad
Now its proud to be the loudest so what you damage mics
Battle cats claim to be deep just cause they seen Titanic twice
You can and might say something worthwhile you'd rather be wild
Huge dick liar's I'd rather teach with freestyles
Entertainment got played quick no thanks bitch dick
f*** my kids don't need your playground education content not sayin' shit
Master the art of momma jokes while flippin' used beats
Ill teach your kids about god they'll kill you when you sleep
Don't be role models be honest using loose leaf loosely
The same cats that's hatin' Puffy they be chasin' lucci
You wasn't preachin' beat before tellin' lies in the street
Keep it rough neck I'll flip subjects success mean getting sleep
Don't take it out on us cause the love wasn't there
Hip-Hop will show you love but the world doesn't care
About you big dick sick shit lunatic drug abuse kid
I've got some herb and words to give now lets make some music

[Mad]

Lyra**ist Lounge

Artist: Typical Cats
Album: Typical Cats
Song: Cliche

(qwel)
See Qwels way past math to drop techs on future prospects
Never got toys like Christmas in the projects
Your rock sets is play this dude braggin' you aint famous
Tighter than vacuums and gets looser than faggots anus
Doper emcees none existent like RuPaul's clit is
Cant tell if your dick or pussy like topless infants
Couldn't spit sick 'ish kid lickin' your cold sores
And leave you scared to drop shit like school stalls with no doors
Wonder how this f***er whispers thunder sounds
Your fly like crippled Ostrich's I scare heads underground
And break it down like midget B-boys screamin' mathematics
When style switches faster than faggots rockin' their thongs backwards
Ask if I'll kill your career with one verse
You couldn't beat me to death if I let you jump first
He's a pussy on the low don't f*** with Philippine cuisine
Deeper than Mexican philosophy and Chevy submarines
What's he mean I think he means your whack beat
In fact I'm harder to catch than hailin' taxis with black peeps
Get in your a** so fast shit scabs when the cops come
Guilty as charged blowin' minds like Shanno(?) with shotguns
Hold nuts like padded rooms whack raps cant plead insanity
Just cause I stand over you don't mean you understand me
Man please I'm way to f***ing dope to be this humble
And knock you out the frame like Christmas pictures with your drunk uncle
Like f*** Qwel and his whole team those irrelevant flows
I'm diggin' in the crates and these (??) on telephone poles
Hope I might choke your as whack as you white jokes
The only cat to drop lines like Samoans on tight ropes
Motherf***ers can't even respond what can he say
Cause after the battle he's more like "yo I ain't wanna win anyway "
And Qwel ain't shit like I ain't lose he ain't even rappin' right
Damn right I'm an a**hole you pussies ain't even half as tight
To and fro fluid flow you know I'm splittin' speakers
Try pressin' promos on boomerangs them shits is cheaper

*Sample*
(scratch) Punch Lines (scratch) Now'n days it's the ways of the underground
If I don't stay on the rest(?) tell me who the hell will
When it really comes down to it two kids
*Sample*

Before braggin' how big my dick was this Bic-smudged note pad
Was dad to whip his a** and change his whole fad
Now its proud to be the loudest so what you damage mics
Battle cats claim to be deep just cause they seen Titanic twice
You can and might say something worthwhile you'd rather be wild
Huge dick liar's I'd rather teach with freestyles
Entertainment got played quick no thanks bitch dick
f*** my kids don't need your playground education content not sayin' shit
Master the art of momma jokes while flippin' used beats
Ill teach your kids about god they'll kill you when you sleep
Don't be role models be honest using loose leaf loosely
The same cats that's hatin' Puffy they be chasin' lucci
You wasn't preachin' beat before tellin' lies in the street
Keep it rough neck I'll flip subjects success mean getting sleep
Don't take it out on us cause the love wasn't there
Hip-Hop will show you love but the world doesn't care
About you big dick sick shit lunatic drug abuse kid
I've got some herb and words to give now lets make some music

he he he he heeeeeeee. this dude is whack, ha ha

[blak boy]

can you upload the typical cats album, qwel is way dope with it and its hard to get those jams

[Headwarmaz]

will do so soon... wait for it...

[SolitaryNative]

Chester P- That Shiiit (ft Ias Balaskas prod by Louis Slippers)
Off "From the Ashes" not new but just sick.
Category- "Reality Rap"/"Bragadoccio"

Total Cockney tho don't think grime and shit. Hip Hop with an accent that makes the whole verse work:

Duck pigs like Roscoe, cold like Moscow, left paralysed to watch moss grow.
Like a 4x4 take you offroad sitting in your ends like an arrow in a crossbow/
I don't care if you feel like a honcho- lookin outta place like a mampi in a pot-hole/
My genius is gospel, indigenous a-po-stel brand all you fake cats rosWELLS/
Tryna tell me they rock bells/ weighs on the same scale/ as tryna tell the Devil that there ain't hell/ So I'm watchin them ring bells/ pullin their pigtails/ deep cats drown in my ink wells
I bring spells, bad weather and ill health/ never on the scene cos I operate in stealth/
Wanna test me step to the depths of hell I ain't gonna kill Bill Bill'll wanna kill imself/
In a cell gettin threats from a silhouette/pa**in the two's like a school boy cigarette/
You'll be dropped right off of the docks   lopside up/ punctured with dog bites/
Take nine lives and your nine wives and I rock mics slang lock tight like a lock knife/
Knock cats like shutters down lockside I ain't gonna stop like a robber on a hot bike/
Mr soundman never got the sound right how you gonna mix with a cable round your windpipe? Left you hanging in your booth like a windchime pulling at the cord in a last bid to win time/ I know cockneys who call cabs sherpas and wear Ben Shermans and burgle and serve in em/ Now they're doing bid birds out in Birmingham serving they're time till the systems returnin em/ I know hoodrats f*** with a germ in em whoever leaves sperm in em dick starts burnin em/ only hope it ain't burns that are permanent/ some of those burns can be germs that can murder them/ Mr Minister what you gonna say to them they don't really think it's gonna work if you pray for dem/ Mr officer looking for a suspect why you stoppin us cos we look like we ruffnecks? You'll be pulling out your cuffs next/
all of this upset for tryna wear my hoodie in public/ Mr Blair always says what he'll do for us/ every other day looking more like he's Lucifer/ Murk a million/ fingerprints silicon/ fa**y get robbed out here like prince william / Sin City every door way homicidium/ Got more tails than a pack of reptilians.

He goes on a bit but that's Chester P. Dude used to rock w Skinnyman and other dudes. Taskforce thrust, mad mad ill. Mud Fam, yeah, Chester P is dope. Slang kinda goes past me now a bit that I don't live in London and shit but hoping most of it's in right. Up for correction.

[Mad]

Chester P- That Shiiit (ft Ias Balaskas prod by Louis Slippers)
Off "From the Ashes" not new but just sick.
Category- "Reality Rap"/"Bragadoccio"

Total Cockney tho don't think grime and shit. Hip Hop with an accent that makes the whole verse work:

Duck pigs like Roscoe, cold like Moscow, left paralysed to watch moss grow.
Like a 4x4 take you offroad sitting in your ends like an arrow in a crossbow/
I don't care if you feel like a honcho- lookin outta place like a mampi in a pot-hole/
My genius is gospel, indigenous a-po-stel brand all you fake cats rosWELLS/
Tryna tell me they rock bells/ weighs on the same scale/ as tryna tell the Devil that there ain't hell/ So I'm watchin them ring bells/ pullin their pigtails/ deep cats drown in my ink wells
I bring spells, bad weather and ill health/ never on the scene cos I operate in stealth/
Wanna test me step to the depths of hell I ain't gonna kill Bill Bill'll wanna kill imself/
In a cell gettin threats from a silhouette/pa**in the two's like a school boy cigarette/
You'll be dropped right off of the docks   lopside up/ punctured with dog bites/
Take nine lives and your nine wives and I rock mics slang lock tight like a lock knife/
Knock cats like shutters down lockside I ain't gonna stop like a robber on a hot bike/
Mr soundman never got the sound right how you gonna mix with a cable round your windpipe? Left you hanging in your booth like a windchime pulling at the cord in a last bid to win time/ I know cockneys who call cabs sherpas and wear Ben Shermans and burgle and serve in em/ Now they're doing bid birds out in Birmingham serving they're time till the systems returnin em/ I know hoodrats f*** with a germ in em whoever leaves sperm in em dick starts burnin em/ only hope it ain't burns that are permanent/ some of those burns can be germs that can murder them/ Mr Minister what you gonna say to them they don't really think it's gonna work if you pray for dem/ Mr officer looking for a suspect why you stoppin us cos we look like we ruffnecks? You'll be pulling out your cuffs next/
all of this upset for tryna wear my hoodie in public/ Mr Blair always says what he'll do for us/ every other day looking more like he's Lucifer/ Murk a million/ fingerprints silicon/ fa**y get robbed out here like prince william / Sin City every door way homicidium/ Got more tails than a pack of reptilians.

He goes on a bit but that's Chester P. Dude used to rock w Skinnyman and other dudes. Taskforce thrust, mad mad ill. Mud Fam, yeah, Chester P is dope. Slang kinda goes past me now a bit that I don't live in London and shit but hoping most of it's in right. Up for correction.

that above..looks like an article in daily sun

[rob_one]

Chester P- That Shiiit (ft Ias Balaskas prod by Louis Slippers)
Off "From the Ashes" not new but just sick.
Category- "Reality Rap"/"Bragadoccio"

Total Cockney tho don't think grime and shit. Hip Hop with an accent that makes the whole verse work:

Duck pigs like Roscoe, cold like Moscow, left paralysed to watch moss grow.
Like a 4x4 take you offroad sitting in your ends like an arrow in a crossbow/
I don't care if you feel like a honcho- lookin outta place like a mampi in a pot-hole/
My genius is gospel, indigenous a-po-stel brand all you fake cats rosWELLS/
Tryna tell me they rock bells/ weighs on the same scale/ as tryna tell the Devil that there ain't hell/ So I'm watchin them ring bells/ pullin their pigtails/ deep cats drown in my ink wells
I bring spells, bad weather and ill health/ never on the scene cos I operate in stealth/
Wanna test me step to the depths of hell I ain't gonna kill Bill Bill'll wanna kill imself/
In a cell gettin threats from a silhouette/pa**in the two's like a school boy cigarette/
You'll be dropped right off of the docks   lopside up/ punctured with dog bites/
Take nine lives and your nine wives and I rock mics slang lock tight like a lock knife/
Knock cats like shutters down lockside I ain't gonna stop like a robber on a hot bike/
Mr soundman never got the sound right how you gonna mix with a cable round your windpipe? Left you hanging in your booth like a windchime pulling at the cord in a last bid to win time/ I know cockneys who call cabs sherpas and wear Ben Shermans and burgle and serve in em/ Now they're doing bid birds out in Birmingham serving they're time till the systems returnin em/ I know hoodrats f*** with a germ in em whoever leaves sperm in em dick starts burnin em/ only hope it ain't burns that are permanent/ some of those burns can be germs that can murder them/ Mr Minister what you gonna say to them they don't really think it's gonna work if you pray for dem/ Mr officer looking for a suspect why you stoppin us cos we look like we ruffnecks? You'll be pulling out your cuffs next/
all of this upset for tryna wear my hoodie in public/ Mr Blair always says what he'll do for us/ every other day looking more like he's Lucifer/ Murk a million/ fingerprints silicon/ fa**y get robbed out here like prince william / Sin City every door way homicidium/ Got more tails than a pack of reptilians.

He goes on a bit but that's Chester P. Dude used to rock w Skinnyman and other dudes. Taskforce thrust, mad mad ill. Mud Fam, yeah, Chester P is dope. Slang kinda goes past me now a bit that I don't live in London and shit but hoping most of it's in right. Up for correction.

DOPE!

You forgot that killer intro though...can't be a**ed to type it out now but it's cold.

[SolitaryNative]

Hinges! ^^Dude I'm super lazy. Couldn't find that shit anywhere on Google nyehe. Put it up tho in time if you remember. Ridiculoushnesh.

There have to be categories though or is that smallmindedness?

[cash]

yawn.


Heres some real shit :
Lil Weezy
"You Ain't Got Nuthin'"
(feat. Fabolous, Juelz Santana)

[Fabolous]
[Talking at start of the verse]
Yess! What it look like Alc, tryin to show the niggas man
It's that Street Fam man, we rep that
Loso, Street fi-di-di-di-dam yess!

I'm with (101) niggas, we (dalmation doggy) b (yess)
And fly with the tongue, so if you feeling froggy leap (come on)
Kermit, you better think before you ribbitDon't get murdered over your song, before you ad-lib it
I pop up like (Xzibit), but given I'm at your crib it's (yeah)
Not to put no f***ing fish tanks in your Civic (nah)
f*** getting your (ride pimped), you'll get hog-tied wimp
Have you in the trunk curled up like fried shrimp (ha ha ha)
It's been a good year, maybe I should ride blimp (what you think?)
'Cause your boy just stay above the game
They trying to tag him, spray a brother frame
But your shots can't reach me, I'm way above your aim
Go 'head nigga, say another name (go 'head, go 'head)
Take this family for a joke, play them (Wayan brother) games
And (Ima Git You Sucka), I be schemin' with this (Keenan) (that's right)
Aimin with this (Damon), I'm putting that (Major Payne) in
My lil' man is on ya, (Marlon and Shawn) ya (yeah)
Lay the beef on his noodle, make some Luger lesagne (whoo!)
40. Cal fettuccine, trey pound pasta
You reach for this medallion, you must like Italian nigga
You only see me pushing if the driver's tired (yess)
I work the S6 ever since the 5 retired (yess)
The drop top, they say it's (Ocean Drive) inspired
So you can (Call A Cab), once your bitch falls for Fab

[Chorus: Lil Wayne]
Uhh, I get money like a muhf***er
Shades darker than a bitch, but I can see
I got everything, you got nothing
But you ain't got nothing on me
Oww I'm gettin money like a muhf***a
Yeeaah, money you ain't never see
Yeeaah, I got everything, you got nothing
But you ain't got nothing on me

[Juelz Santana]
[Talking at start of the verse overlapping chorus]
Mr. HD, high definition
That's how I'm comin' at you niggas ya digg
It's Santana Ay! Hahaa

I'm on the grind 'til the police come (yeah)
With that pistol on my side boy, don't be dumb
Or, I let that semi twirl ya (get 'em)
Now you can follow the drip
'Cause one shot outta the clip'll jerry curl ya (oooh)
Leave you sloppy like seconds, obey me like peasants
Or get opened up like presents, please
My young boys wildin for respect
Slit your throat have you smiling with your neck, say cheese
My dough's a bit longer, my flow is just slaughter (yep)
My wrist look like fro-zen polar spring water (damn!)
So tell me boys, tell me boys, who you think you messing with? (who)
I get money out the a**, that's some expensive shit (eeuw)
Haven't you all heard? (what?) Y'all all herbs (yep)
I stick toothpicks (where) in y'all hors d'oeuvres
(Listen) I'm a shark y'all just koi fish
(What else?) octopus (what else?) oysters (haa)Chump, I got my eye on your wifey now (yeah)
I have her lick me up, (up) and then wipe me down (down)
She told me youse a nag, youse a bug (damn)
She told me I'm a blast, I'm a stud (damn)
She told me you be be beasting, you be checking for the burns
So I gave her knee-pads for the rug (haa)
It's skull gang from the chain or the lifestyle
You surfboard dudes get wiped out, totally

[Chorus]

[lil Wayne]
Uh huh uh huh uh huh, check me out

Get you 3,4 get you
Like the number after 1, I'ma get me 2
It's Weezy F U, now you gotta have a baby
My money don't folds nor bends
Mercedes Maybach, grey-black
And I got a 44. and a 'K, like 8 stacks
f*** your city and your town, I state facts
Take that, no better yet like Diddy "take that"
Wait rats, I hate rats, I clean 'em out like Ajax
Got paper like a fax machine, asaneen
Damn I mean asinine, I'm dapper don
And after mine there will be nine, damn I mean there will be none
I will be one, of the greatest things you've ever felt, you've ever seen
Or heard, Car-ter, hov-er, y'all scared, not me
Not I, call me young Popeye
Tell Bruno I'm a noo-no, I bring ral to your fune
Damn I mean funeral, funeral
You say tomato, I say tomato
You say get 'em, I say got 'em, yeah I got 'em
Man you better keep paying me, 'cause you don't want my problems
I be wildin like (Capital One "What is in your wallet?")
You fly, but what is it to pilot?
Weezy I'm at the top, foot up in your bottom
Huuh, damn I mean, foot up in your a**
I kick that shit, now go'n put it in the trash
[Chorus w/ variations to fade]

[SolitaryNative]

Go Weezy. Yawn indeed. Dalmations. Wow.

[Jules Winnfield]

Artist: Ras Ka**
Album:  Soul on Ice
Song:   Etc.

1st Pull:

Niggaz know it's about that time without a Schoolly D Gucci
I pop that pussy a** rapper and leave it up to Luke to Pop the Coochie
Truly a wretched steelo -- kept you Under Seige like Seagal
Cause I housed more niggaz than that faggot named RuPaul
Y'all all suffer the consequences
I dispense dope sentences without a prescription
prefixes asphyxiate bitches who flips linguistics
Representin the West, relevant to relentless sentences
If renegade rebels resent this wicked syntax (then jack)
Revert to revolution Ras reverse, reverberates
Revolvin with written retalliation, rate repetitious
Reflex flex, regret niggaz regress to less than recoup
When recording, I wreck, records
Reflect stupid, it's so much more than just another rap and sample
Cause I model more styles than Naomi Campbell
See we been burning idiots with lyrical syphillis
Since E.S.T. was Ackniculous, the nickle slick meticulous
ventriloquist when I throws my voice over the Western HemisFear
While my peers step over a Trail of Tears
Go get a job as a chandelier wit a gla** jaw like dat
I brings the impact to fracture mandibles, and manhandle the youth
Since my mental exceeds every MC I've perceive credible
Now becomes edible, kid!
And yo, I'm D for wreckin when reputations collide
But zhoom dum da dum, dadada dum dum
Suicide it's a suicide


2nd Pull:

I pull bitches like a lesbian and could come the f*** off
with a vasectomy, in depth I be deeper than Bosses' recipe
Incite recitation forever Ras Rock Steady like Buck when breakin on ducks
Who get props by a**ociation
Buy if ya lyrics suck, then f*** ya record label's juice
Ock, I rock hip-hop non-stop and got more juice than Snapple
Intricate to simplistic stylistics I solicit
It gets niggaz open like fallopian ovulation
f***in these kids like the Michael Jackson molestations
Sendin ya back as the U.S. Nation did AIDS infected refugee Haitians
Uhh, yeah niggaz so what's the haps
You could put up ya dukes but in the West they bust caps
So bulletproof fists is the only way I'm gone miss, but peep this
My mental's the bullet, my tongue's the finger that pull it
Check the method, soundtrack voodoo uh and bamboo like strapped
Come better you, oh sorry verbal dyslexic
You better come strapped like bamboo and a voodoo soundtrack
And make sure not even one bar sounds wack (bitch)
Cause we take the best shit and make it cla**ic
Word to Guru, take two f***in pulls, and pa** it


Get the f*** outta here!!!!

[Jules Winnfield]

Nas on Verbal Intercourse, from Raekwon's "Only Built for Cuban Linx"

Through the lights cameras and action, glamour glitters and gold
I unfold the scroll, plant seeds to stampede the globe
When I'm deceased, by then the beast arise like yeast
to conquer peace leaving savages to roam in the streets
Live on the run, police paying me to give in my gun
Trick my Wisdom, with the system that imprisoned my son
Smoke a gold leaf I hold heat, nonchalantly
I'm grungy, but things I do is real it never haunts me
while, funny style niggaz roll in the pile
Rooster heads profile on a bus to Riker's Isle
Holdin weed inside they pussy with they minds on the
pretty things in life, props is a true thug's wife
It's like a cycle, niggaz come home, some'll go in
Do a bullet, come back, do the same shit again
From the womb to the tomb, presume the unpredictable
Guns salute life, rapidly, that's the ritual

[Sosiba]

Song name: Accelerate
Artist: Flabba
Album: Kut en Joyn

Well I'm the type that makes Freinksteins look like full blown idiots/Just like an angry man in a coffin I'm dead serious/(Your style is fat) Yeah I know I was told/That's why they never get tired of my shit like toilet bowls/Marry had a little lamb but then I stole it/Sold it 2 my mother-in-law then it was roasted/I was about to leave when she said I should stay for supper/And for dinner I had both the lamb and her daughter... I'm not sure about the next 4 bars but the last 4 of this verse went thus; Backstabbers wanna threaten my life/But i backstab them right back with a sharper knife/Infinite skills in other words skill that never ends/I'm proud to say i dedicate this verse to my intelligence...

To me very no MC in SA has matched Flabba's madness pre-2003.

Check some lines from his verse on the song WE put it there (1999). "Even if I was swimming in boiling water I'd still remain raw" "My lyricism is bad for the heart; too much cholesterol (i.e Fat lyrics))"  "Attacking Mc's without warning like silent farts"

[blak boy]

co sign that ras ka**, that's the ish that kicks nighaz teeth in
Flabba was dope back in the day, as well, he did not give a Fck! was way dope

here's my drop,

Artist: Organized Konfusion
Album:  The Equinox
Song:   Numbers
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash

Uhh, turn it up
Hah, uhh, yo, check it
Now add it up
Uhh, add it up
Uhh...

[Prince Poetry]
Check it out, we're like
Three LP's precise from my Five Deadly Venoms
With international plugs like nine Organized emblems
Get it?  Twenty Thousand Leagues, extra deep
Runnin with the number thirteen with my 40 Below's upon the feet
Now Adam 12 got me in this 20/20
so I'm double oh seven about my four one one
Sunny forecast with eighty-three degrees of heat
We merkin four-twenty eat island three five N2Deep
Mack 10 under seat for carjacking Pa**enger 57's
A Product 19 who gets the dumpster behind 7 Eleven
4-1-0-8-0-9-1-5-9
Same 227 style with one nosy bitch in the blind
Hit, one-five-five for twenty sacks and better
Nothin but love for this nigga, Mr. 16th Letter
Mr. 16th Letter, Mr. 16th Letter...

[Pharoahe Monch]
Yo, nine times out of ten, a nigga won't shine
I drop dime on five niggaz who all had nines
on the corner of my block doin crime, now I'm
walkin around, with the fo'-pound, now lately
Lookin over my shoulder with a six hour three-eighty
Maybe the baby Tec woulda been nicer to bring along
Sing along with me if y'all know the song
Mines, gimme, not Vinnie but I'm Naughty
In forty projects drinkin 40's till I'm forty ?
Truncatin drum loops with Pauly
On the SP-1200 and 1212 you feel it
Mission to create, matrimony and reveal it
It's love in the form of life, as you know it
You skatin with the eight and I'ma damn sure show it

        Funky Four +1, you know makes Five
        Fantastic, romatic, got live
        Furious was cheeriest, the Treacherous Three
        We be the Awesome Two most definitely
        ... makes Five ... got live
        ... Three, we be the Awesome Two

[Pharoahe Monch]
Now I can get Get, Smart smart
But I'm not not Eighty-Six in the mind, mind you
I got a girl named Ninety-Nine, and when I rhyme
she rhymes too, she likes to do the sixty-nine
and so I climb, up through, to the, top of the pile
But see I'm not standing on Gomer
I hit a homer, and I got jumped by The Simpsons
Not to mention, Pharoahe Mon-Chi-Chi, eighty-nine percent
of the time I'm sure of my rhyme like shake redemption
The remaining eleven percent come from seven percent
Great God Pharoahe of heaven ascent
Racin a 5.0, in my 380i
On my way back from Florida on four-ninety-five

        We just parlayin with the one one one
Check one, now add it up
        now add the two *scratch* two two
Uhh, Monch, add it up
        Truly with the three three three three
Yo, add it up
        We be the Awesome Two most definitely

[Prince Poetry]
Now just yesterday I couldn't took my last Five Heartbeats
Now I feeling it's for spiritual reasons
No more sweet sixteens and dick teasing
Too many Tech-9's behind trees and five-oh keeps a black brotha bleedin
Fillin em up like Unleaded Phillips 66
Owin me more than 40 Acres and these Mule kicks
Gettin the 48 Hours, like Eddie Murphy
Too dark to mix, now triple-six wanna hurt me
Still reachin for more than, ten million sales
In Studio 54, Waiting to Exhale
When in the world 12 disciples, in this life cycle
that's trifle, so my impact's a twenty gauge rifle
Fifty/fifty eight and thirteen inches of weapon
7-1-8 to 2-1-3 on the 747
Three strikes, two tokes, once again for the ma**
Furious like the Five with Grandmaster Flash

        Yo, Funky Four +1, you know makes Five
        Fantastic, romatic, got live
        Furious was cheeriest, the Treacherous Three
        We be the Awesome Two most definitely