Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Busta Rhymes Scenario
I think this is the joint that really put Bus on. Personally, I knew something ridiculous was about to transpire from the tone of his voice when he first started to rhyme "I heard you rushed and rushed, AND ATTACKED." Not to mention the fact that he dropped rambunction in the flow. How many cat's really drop words like rambunction in flows, especially back then. What's real, whether it is thin, dreaded up Bus, swole, kickng cats in the head Bus, or pudgy, big belly Bus, long live Busta Rhymes.
Hear It!
Watch, as I combine all the juice from the mind
Heel up, reel up, bring it back, come rewind
Powerful impact BOOM! from the cannon
Not braggin, try to read my mind just imagine
Vo-cab-u-lary's necessary
When diggin into my library
Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!
Eating ayea toadstool like the one Peter Tosh-a
Uh, uh uhh, alone with the track man
Uh, pardon me, uhh, as I come back
As I did it yo I heard you beg your pardon
When I travel to the Sun I roll with the squadron
RRRRRROAW RRRRRRROAW like a dungeon dragon
Change your little drawers cause your pants are saggin
Try to step to this, I will, fits you in a turban
And had you smellin right, like some old stale urine
Checkady-choco, the chocolate chicken
The rear cock diesel, for chicks they were kickin
Yo, bustin out before the Busta bust a nut the rhyme
The rhythm is in sync (UHH!) the rhymes are on time (TIME!)
Rippin up this dance just like a radio
Observe the vibe and check out the scenario!!!!
Yeah, my man motherfucker!
Check The Vid!
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Tuesday, December 30, 2008
GhostFace Killah Run 4 Cover
Yo, this MadHater, and I'm pissed off Sun, word up. This being my first post on this SteelBarz sh*t, i'm gonna start off with Ghostface Killah. Don't nobody spit like Ghost spit. I still don't know what the f*ck he's talking about, but don't nobody spit like Ghost, kid!!!! Yo, his flow, delivery, energy all that- these cats can't F*ck with Ghost Sun, real talk.
Hear That Sh*t B!!!!
Don of all dons, behind New York King Tut wit one arm
Banana Nut Crunch last cinnamon toast with power rose
Whips dirty, dustin my bitch, FUCK PAROLE!
Peace out his Wallee Timb's, wild out (wild out)
We in the spot, guns go off though
Came out his mask it was Ollie North
Oh shit, what up what up Ghost
Congratulations on your new flick
Burn it dead who max the most
Word up you got the most Clarks
Bravehearts spin this
For under come down in the pale he need minutes
Told y'all before I kick doors off the hinges
Ain't no cooler and there ain't no Guiness
Money like Barry Blue, Keanu Reeves wit bench slippers
Play the PGA Tour wit Jack Nicklaus
Statues of Mary, gats that bust mercury
Sit through the biggest storm and hand out turkey!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Rock-Ness Operation Lockdown
Hear It!
Who wan test y'all?
Mr. Mall-Doo, a.k.a. Rock-Ness y'all
Guard your chest y'all
Nothing can protect y'all
(From who?) From Buckshot on down to the Reps y'all
We runnin through your set y'all
Fuck the rest y'all, we be the best y'all
Yesh yesh y'all
I crack backs North South East and West y'all
With no stress y'all
I deep do I guess y'all
Got ancestors in deep sets I never met ya'll
Ready to wet y'all
Place your bottom dollar bets y'all
Chest boards become messed boards if you flex y'all
Nevertheless y'all
We out to save the shit before it's dead y'all
Lock it down with the full court pressure!!!!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Bizzy Bone Thug Luv
If you are unlike myself and can actually keep it with Bizzy Bone, and are able to decipher just exactly what the fuck it is that he is saying half of the time, then you are already aware that he is one of the sickest MOFO's to ever rhyme. That's it!!!!!!
Hear It!
Well I must be close to the Armageddon lord you know
That I won't fly that lesson you taught me to pull out my wesson you brought
And am I stressing it softly get 'em up off me cause all
We wanted was harmony been bombing 'em yell up outta my ghetto
I want settle get on my level they can't
Stop me or drop me nigga they got me fuck naw
Little Pac get schizophrenic and manage to damage all y'all
I'll talk about 'em and you don't really want it
Cause they're cornered and I want 'em to jump up
I'd rather say that we came to shut 'em all down
So quick to test bullet yes declare war
Roll and I'll blow when I get the gun for the murder mo' horror
For what the did it all pause for the cause and I
Fin to pull a nine or pistol little nigga wit mine fuck dem niggas it's on
All y'all fall Bizzy gettin bitches test me bless the floor
In any attempt to arrest me stress me lord
Looking at death with the last of my breath
Follow follow my kids but don't sin in my steps
Yet the weapon is kept with the best of my secrets
Deep in the leaves I'm alone nigga believe
That I can see it if needed an if you really want me in
Well let it be and get the greens and be runnnin up over Cleveland
IllStyle
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Eve EVE Double R What
As Ruff Ryders 1st and only lady, Eve has proven to be one of the most fierce female MC's ever. Her soft voice mixed with her ferocious street attack secured her title as the pitbull in a skirt. But in my opinion, cats need to start sticking to the original script. Ever since her somewhat successful run on her own short lived UPN sitcom, it seems she that she hasn't been rapping the same. Or it that we just hear her differently now? Whatever it is, she is not the same Eve that ripped cats a new asshole on several tracks. She used to be that ghetto ryde or die chick, now she's a pretty girl, is that a good thing? From "What Y'all Want" to "Tamborine," lyrically she is still that business, but will the real Eve please stand up?
Hear It!
I'm a savage bitch
Ain't nobody gettin' close to this
And ain't nobody flipped and wrote the shit
And can't nobody sit and coach this shit
You feelin' lucky? then aproach me, shit
I'm like the glass, you just the coaster bitch; Under me!
You wanna make it ugly, can't do nothin' 'bout it
Angry at the public, buggin' me
Rat bitch, pot bitch, hungover hot bitch
Wantin' all that money, fuckin' gettin' all that rock, shiiit
Scared of who? huh, we goin' get rid of you
Climbin' the walls wit' gimmicks, that shit is pitiful
Dawgs close by me, so why try me
They wan' cop me but they too sloppy
Damn, I gotchu stuck in a box
You feelin' trapped, got your stomach in knots
'Cause I ain't lettin' goI keepin' it locked
I know you gettin' mad 'cause your luck's up
Plus I'm a purebread, baby, I don't fuck with mutts
Come on!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Ludacris The Potion
I got mad love for many southern MC's, but what moves most just doesn't do it for me. I'm trying to figure out exactly when a cats swagger became more important than what he has to say. Speaking the realest of that real street shit means nothing as far as MCing is concerned if an artist is not good at it. That's where Ludacris comes in. Cris does not claim to be something is not on any track, and lyrically, will give it to any MC from any coast, set, hood, project, crew, camp, team, unit, squad, or any other slick ass term we can fabricate to represent our groups. What's real, stop swinging from the balls of these cats with these lazy, drunk flows and calling them the coldest in the game because they can pull a few punch lines out of their ass. That's only a fraction of what we call this Hip-Hop shit. Give credit to the real mouths of the South.
Hear It!
Only stand 5 '8, but still a big shot
Plus i got a big {cock}
Clean every day, stay fresher then whats in a zip-lock
Tell your man to kick rocks,
when i make my pit stops
Im in, then its hard to get me out like im a slipnot
Born to be a leader and not, no not a follower
Only hang with chicks that got more twist then Oliver
Not much of a hollerer
but i like to borrow her
Lips bringin out the best in me, specially if shes a swollower
Freaky deaky yellow man,
and im sayin hello man
To all the lovely ladies that like to jiggle like jello man
Bigger booty, small waist, put em' in a small place
And if aint no ass where I'm at then im in the wrong place
Bail like a bondsman, but keep em dancin
Got pop potential stay black like Bob Johnson
Who the hell is that in that fancy car
Tell your momma im a Ghetto Superstar
IllStyle
Friday, November 7, 2008
Heavy D You Aint Heard Nuttin Yet
Why is it that noone EVER brings up Heavy D in a conversation about old schoool rap? Heavy, in my opinion, was one of the greats when it came to vocabulary, word play, delivery and swag. Who didn't like to see his chubby ass dancing while he spit "We Got Our Own Thang"? Plus nobody could say that Diddley D shit right but him. Let's rewind to that old shit for a minute.
Hear It!
How could I explain to ya -
the Heavmania
Tryna figure eight or make it simple and plain to ya
Hmm, I'm the Heavster, a rap register
That flows with cash so fast you can't measure the
Intent of content that I rep-re-sent
The format of my rap from past to present tense
Girls they adore me, they scream for me
Fellas get jealous cause the ladies won't ignore me
Ov-er-weight Lo-ver MCH-E-A-V-Y-D, rap champion
Ask Nick and Damian
Joe Black, Pete Rock, Billy Bob and they'll explain to ya
Who is the greatest, the biggest, the baddest! (baddest!)
They won't front, they know the Heavy D. status
My favorite, old time group came Gladys
Knight & The Pips and, love "Flip" Wilson
The Great Houdini was my, favorite magician
Sit back relax, cause Heav is on a mission
I'm a inject, de-tect, dialect, disect, direct
Heav is in effect - but you ain't heard nuttin yet!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Cappadonna Winter Warz
Hear It!
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
Gut 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 Rob name printed in the tablet
under vets, we paid our debts for mad years
Hibernate the sound, and now we out like bears
and blunt power, born physically power speakin
The truth in the song be the pro-black teachin
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
John Forte Family Business
I think cats slept on John Forte, but he rarely left you disappointed when he blessed you with a flow. This is the joint that put me on. It is well worth the a listen, because everyone featured had an ill flow.
Hear It!
We used to jump rope,
But now we gun hope
Bustin shots off of project roof tops
Sending signals with the blunt smoke.
Ock, dont talk a lot if you cant hold it in lock
If you think lips sink ships,
Imagine full glock clips.
I hold a glass of remy martin
Gettin milks by the carton
Extortin the light weights for thinkin they important
The night pays and heavenly waysAint nothin free ah
Knowledge of your family and steppin to your b.i.
You see i, stay on top of shit like a fly
My niggas reach when they got beef
Then jet down to south beach
Yo mouthpiece is yappin
I hear it in your rap and
My family is thick so that bullshit could never happen.
Refugee Allstars We Tryin To Stay Alive
Monday, October 20, 2008
Common Get Em High
What can I say about Com Sense, other than that is one of the most gifted, uplifting and inspiring artists ever. Common has continued represent what can only be desribed as true Hip-Hop even before the days of Resurrection when he explained to us why he used to love her. Also showing his more grittier side with his brief beef with Ice Cube in The Bitch In You. These days it is obvious that he loves her once again, and is dedicated to her resurrection. With his calm mellow tone, witty punchlines and smooth delivery, Com has definately forced his way into Hip-Hop greatness, and proven to be deserving of his staus as one of the elite.
Hear It!
Get em high like noon, or the moon or room filled with smoke
A hype filled with dope
Y'all assumed I was doomed, out of tune, but I still feel the notes
The real nigga quotes
Real rappers is hard to find, like a remote, control rap is out of
Used too but still got love, that's why I abuse you who are not thugs
Rock clubs, it's like Tiger, Woods in the hood, to have my own reality show
Called Soul Survivor, I stole all liver, niggaz than you
You'se a bitch I got ones that are thicker than you
How could I ever let your words affect me, they say Hip-Hop is dead
I'm here to resurrect me, marcs is to sexy to even make songs like these
That's why the raw don't know your name, like Alicia Keys
To many featured emcees, and pro-ducers is popular
Twelve thousand spins, nobody got there cop in the
Album, how come, you the hot garbage of
The years clear your image and snooped up
Label got you souped up, tellin you you sick
Man you a dick with a loose nut
Video hard to watch like Medusa
Even your club record need a booster
Chimped up, with a pimp cup, illiterate nigga
Read the infa- red across your head I'm bread king like Simba
Bolder then Denver, I ain't a Madd Rapper just a MC with a temper
You dancin for money like Honey, I did this my way
So when the industry crash, I survive like Kanye
Spittin through wires and fires, MC retirin
Got yo hands up, get them motherfuckers higher then
IllStyle