I never gave a rat’s ass or a flyin’ fuck…
Drivin’ drunk in a fire truck with the siren stuck,
Slammin’ the brakes, skiddin’ out cause the tires suck.
Went to pull you off my dick and got the pliers stuck.
You better run, cause I’m probably the only one
Crazy enough to shoot your ass with a knife and stab you with a gun.
Tag Archives: wordplay
Attention! Follow directions real close:
Keep out of reach of children, beware of overdose.
Too many milligram, but what made a iller jam?
My rhyme is the rhythm of thoughts that kill a man.
Ideas for the ear to fear, might split ‘em;
He’ll never forget ’em…he’ll rest in peace wit ’em.
At least when he left he’ll know what hit ’em:
The last breath of the words of death was ‘The Rhythm.’
I keep the ugly rhymes in the cellar of my cranium,
Where no one can see them or hear cries for freedom.
Chopped up raw thoughts the only thing I feed ‘em,
Release the beats from the cellar when I need ‘em.
The scene of a crime every night at the show,
The fiend of a rhyme on the mic that you know.
It’s only one capable; breaks, the unbreakable.
Melodies, unmakable; pattern, unescapable.
Brothers on the butters can’t flip the Parkay.
My mic is a Magnum.
See me and this chick, we go back like Cro-Magnon.
Man…we did it in the back of your Magnum;
I said, ‘Put them Lifestyles back, give me the Magnums.’
No-frill rappers: you will evaporate, disintegrate, deflate to your fate,
as the great will dominate straight to the state
Of reignin’, gainin’…So put Kane in
That category. Period. End of story.
Squeeze 7cc’s so I could see the seven seas,
And CC all my friends so they could see what I was seeing…
But what they saw was a despicable human being;
So, I guess they just wasn’t seeing what I was seeing.
These internet thugs ain’t doin’ a thing,
Got caught with the Google Chrome…now they in the Bing.
I got a smile that’ll make the mirror crack,
And I seem to stay under clouds that’s pitch black.
So when it rains, it pours, and when it pours, I’m soaked.
I contracted lung cancer from third hand smoke,
And I’m like the frog that’s dying to be a prince,
The boy who cried wolf and no one was convinced.
The man who hit lotto and lost his ticket,
In a rainstorm…and struck by lightning trying to get it.
When I hit the bong
I’m Godzilla takin’ over Hong Kong
Eatin’ wonton with a shotgun in long johns.
Save your wack rhymes, hold your female.
Pass the Old Gold, trash the ale.
Cash your food stamps, get the WIC out the mail.
Love to eat shrimps, but I never eat snail,
Eat a whole fish except for the tail.
Keep food in the fridge so it don’t get stale,
And when there’s nothing to eat…I bite my nails.
Got more milky syllables than alphabet cereals.
I play chess, but my past is checkered,
The mic and I are like staff and shepherd.
Fuck movin’ mountains, I move planets and leave you Earthless.
Terror Squad: the worst that hurt shit, split your universes.
My motto is: the bigger they are, the more politics involved,
And I revolve at a rate to make your occipital skull plate dissolve.
Techniques delve deep, soooo…don’t sleep, ock, I rock phonics
That got you holdin my dick like your name was Lorena Bobbit.
Lyrical lecture, word architecture,
Rap director, the best in my sector.
Microphone cool chief, releasin the smooth speech…
I get nasty with a pen and some loose leaf.
Commentating, illustrating, description-giving
Adjective expert. Analyzing, surmising,
Musical, myth-seeking people of the universe…
This is yours!
This is my time, this is my hour,
This is my pain, this is my name, this is my power.
If it’s my reign, then it’s my shower,
This pole position…I made a lane ‘cause they blocked ours.
This thing called rhymin’ is no different than coal minin’;
We both on assignment to unearth the diamond.
Redman ready to rock rough rhymes,
Renegade rapper, rip when it’s rhyme time.
Punk push a pen and pencil when I’m pissed,
Pack pistol posse, flow some more pro shit.
What is competition? I’m tryna raise the bar high,
Who tryna jump and get it? You better off tryna skydive
Out the exit window of 5 G5’s with 5 grand
With your granddad as the pilot he drunk as fuck tryna land
With the hand full of arthritis and popping prosthetic leg
Bumpin Pac in the cockpit so the shit that pops in his head
Is an option of violence, someone heard the stewardess said
That your parachute is a latex condom hooked to a thread.
I circumnavigate the globe with a one-liner like latitude.
Consider me the entity within the industry without a history of spitting the epitome of stupidity.
Comin’ from the school of hard knocks,
Some perpetrate…they drink Clorox.
Attack the black, cause I know they lack exact
The cold facts, and still they try to Xerox.
The last batter to hit, blast shattered your hip,
Smash any splitter or fastball—that’ll be it.
Super-cali-fragalistic-expiali-docious,
Docious-ali-expi-fragalistic-cali-super.
Cancun…catch me in the room, eatin’ grouper.
I chop ‘em into salad and my name ain’t Caesar.
Music business hates me cause the industry ain’t make me,
Hustlers and boosters embrace me and the music I be makin.
I dumbed down for my audience to double my dollars…
They criticized me for it, yet they all yell ‘HOLLA!’
If skills sold, truth be told, I’d probably be, lyrically, Talib Kweli.
Truthfully I wanna rhyme like Common Sense,
But I did five mil…I ain’t been rhymin like Common since.
We were at the same table when the chips were checked,
A gamblin’ rebel who inspects the deck.
Just when you thought we would fold our hand,
Against all odds, we raised the bet like we changed the plans.
It was live on air, but in between station breaks,
I was holdin a pair and just made the table stakes.
Split the demos, put insurance on tapes,
A safeguard against the crusaders in capes.
If I double-down, they say the Gods are sharks;
If we win against the house, they thought the cards was marked.
We draw hit after hit from a royal flush menu,
While the dealer promoted the full house venue.
A spade in the club with the heart to wear diamonds,
The high roller who got credit upon signin’.
They look puzzled when I shuffle, most of ‘em stunned by the hustle,
Recourse of bluff game’s your muscle.
Y’all mythological niggas is comical,
The astronomical is comin’ thru like tha flu bombin’ you…
And embalmin’ in your crew, too.
With the musical, mystical, magical, you know how I do.
Ghostface, catch the blast of a hype verse,
My glock bursts, leave in a hearse, I did worse.
I come rough, tough like an elephant tusk,
Ya head rush, fly like Egyptian musk.
Yo, it’s 1 universal law but 2 sides to every story,
3 strikes and you be in for life, mandatory.
4 MC’s murdered in the last 4 years,
I ain’t tryin to be the 5th one, the Millennium is here.
Yo, it’s 6 million ways to die, from the 7 deadly thrills,
8-year olds gettin’ found with 9 mill’s.
It’s 10 P.M., where your seeds at? What’s the deal?
For underground metaphors, you can scrape an inch below the turf.
For what it’s worth, my style’s been developed in the core of the Earth.
The exhale’s volcanic, the inhale is seismic…
The D’s for doin it all of the time.
M is for the rhymes, that are all mine,
C’s for cool, cool as can be,
And why you wear those glasses? So I can see!
A rap villain: chillin’ and I don’t give a fuck about a killin’ cause I’m still in effect when you’re illin’.
I got styles sick as hell, sicker than sickle cell anemia,
Slaughter your circulatory like leukemia.
A rap pro, do a show, good to go, also
Cameo afro, Virgo, domino, I go Rambo,
Gigolo, Romeo, Friday night spend money on a ho…tel,
To get a good night’s sleep, I’m keeping in step.
Now do I come off? Yep.
Linguine linguistics that left my verbal essence saucy,
Send a message, leave you sleepin’ next to headless horsey.
I leave scientists mentally scarred,
Triple Extra Large,
Wild like rock stars who smash guitars…
Leave MC’s blind with amnesia;
Chop ‘em into salad, and my name ain’t Caesar.
My karma’s the comma that puts you inside of a coma,
Hyphen, dot, dot, semi-colon, leave you semi-swollen.
Question mark, you pregnant?
Oh you’re not? I love you, period.
New York City gritty committee pity the fool that act shitty in the midst of the calm, the witty.
Dwellin’ in the Rotten Apple, you get tackled.
Or caught by the devil’s lasso…shit is a hassle.
Never been to Sesame Street but I flip a Big Bird.
And I know “stealers” and they not from Pittsburgh…
Makin’ veterans run for medicine,
Cause I put out more lights in a fight than ConEdison.
I’m not a ‘Businessman,’ I’m a Business… man! Let me handle my business, damn!
Yo, you 14-carat gold slum computer wizard,
Tappin’ inside my rap vein causes blizzards!
I won’t hesitate to detonate, I’m short fused.
Some is sniffin’, and some is buffin’.
Some is riffin’, some ain’t sayin nothin’,
But my pockets I am stuffin’.
Huffin’ puffin’, blow the house down,
Nice and Smooth is in your town…
La-Di-Da-Di, we likes to party
We don’t cause trouble, we don’t bother nobody.
We’re just some men that’s on the mic,
And when we rock up on the mic
We rock the mic, right!
I get physical, mystical, very artistical…
Giving party people something funky to listen to.
Street’s disciple, my raps are trifle.
I shoot slugs from my brain just like a rifle.
Let’s travel at magnificent speeds around the universe
What could you say as the Earth gets further and further away
Planets are small as balls of clay
Astray into the Milky Way, world’s outasight
Far as the eye can see, not even a satellite
Now stop and turn around and look
As you stare in the darkness, your knowledge is took!
So keep starin’ soon you suddenly see a star
You better follow it, cause it’s the R.
I’m the epitome of catchin’ wreck, catch you when you cash your check
Smash you when you pass, then jack you for your fuckin’ Lex
GZA/Genius (Wu-Tang Clan) • “Alphabets” • Pro Tools • 2008
Allah Be a Born, Cee Divine, Equality,
Father, then after that, there’s the G-O-D.
He or Her, I Islam, then Justice,
King of Kingdom, Love, Hell or Right, we still exist.
Master, Now in Cypher, Power’s the Queen,
Rule of Rulers, Self of Save, the Truth of the square, the same.
Universe, Victory, Wisdom, Unknown,
Why, Zig Zag Zig…and now we’re back home.
GZA, “Alphabets,” Pro Tools, 2008
Kool G. Rap • “Bad to the Bone” • 1990
Rhymes are dynamic, voice is titanic,
Gigantic…suckers get frantic, and then panic.
A smooth talker, ‘cause I’m a Queens New Yorker,
My rhymes bring more Good Times than Jimmie Walker.
Kool G. Rap, “Bad to the Bone,” from Kool G. Rap & DJ Polo’s Wanted: Dead or Alive, 1990
LL Cool J • “My Rhyme Ain’t Done” • 1987
I took a little trip into a deck of cards:
The Diamond Jack, Joker and the Ace of Spades
Was amazed at greater Cut Creator on the fade.
Then I played cards with the Queen of Clubs,
The Queen of Hearts with me cold fell in love.
As for the Queen of Diamonds, she don’t like men…
Because you know that a diamond is a girl’s best friend.
The double-trouble Spade was named the Deuce,
And the Joker acted stupid, so we gave him the news.
There was 52 cards, and I met everyone
That story is over, but my rhyme ain’t done.
LL Cool J, “My Rhyme Ain’t Done,” Bigger and Deffer, 1987
Big Pun • “Beware” • 1998
Flawless victory, you niggas can’t do shit to me:
Physically, lyrically, hypothetically, realistically.
– Big Pun, “Beware,” Capital Punishment, 1998
Inspectah Deck (Wu-Tang Clan) • “Triumph” • 1997
I bomb atomically, Socrates’ philosophies and hypotheses
Can’t define how I be dropping these mockeries.
Lyrically perform armed robbery,
Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me…
– Inspectah Deck, “Triumph,” from Wu-Tang Clan’s Wu-Tang Forever, 1997
Jay-Z • American Dreamin • 2007
Survive the droughts? I wish you well.
How sick am I? I wish you health.
I wish you wheels, I wish you wealth,
I wish you insight so you could see for yourself.
– Jay-Z, “American Dreamin,” American Gangster, 2007
Killer Mike (Run the Jewels) • “Nobody Speak” • 2016
I rob Charlie Brown, Peppermint Patty, Linus and Lucy,
Put coke in the doobie, roll woolies to smoke with Snoopy.
I still remain that dick grabbin’ slacker that spit a loogie,
Cause the toter of the toolie’ll murder you friggin’ Moolie.
– Killer Mike, “Nobody Speak,” from DJ Shadow’s The Mountain Will Fall, 2016
Method Man • “Da Rockwilder” • 1999
Microphone checka, swingin’ sword lecture,
Closin’ down the sector, supreme neck protector.
– Method Man, “Da Rockwilder,” from Meth and Red’s Blackout, 1999
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,
Revert to revolution Ras reverse, reverberates,
Revolvin with written retalliation, rate repetitious.
Serve the curves, I never swerve I’m superb;
Every word you heard played tricks on your nerves.
I’m a beast on the microphone, a night stalker,
A killing machine, a savage street talker,
Jason with an axe, but I put it on wax
To eradicate the suckers who thought I had relaxed.
Now, yo: Juice Crew’s the family, Slick Rick’s a friend of me
And Doug E. Fresh, Stet, KRS and Public Enemy.
Blahzay-blah, you know who you are:
The red, black and green, the sun, moon and star.
Knowledge of self is being taught here on after,
Peace in the name of I, Self, Lord and Master.
I come to teach and preach and reaching each
With the speech every leech I’ll impeach.
Drop science and build with math,
And the dumb, deaf and blind’ll feel the Wrath…of Kane.
Lyrically def and connecting, complete mic-wrecking…
No double-checking, vocals kill like weapons.
Deep like The Shining, sparkle like a diamond,
Sneak a Uzi on the Island in my army jacket lining.
Hit the Earth like a comet…invasion,
Nas is like the Afrocentric Asian: half-man, half-amazing.
It ain’t hard to tell, I excel then prevail,
The mic is contacted, I attract clientele.
My mic check is life or death, breathing a sniper’s breath,
I exhale the yellow smoke of buddha through righteous steps.
Redman ready to rock rough rhymes,
Renegade rapper, rip when it’s rhyme time.
Punk push a pen and pencil when I’m pissed,
Pack pistol posse, flow some more pro shit.
Drink Listerine, brush my teeth with amphetamine,
So I can sound fresh and say dope things in between.
Now I’m a veteran, spit a 16 sixteen ways,
Sixteen in a clip, spit it 16 ways.
I know six teens, pull up to a sweet sixteen and spray.
I’m like sixteen Jays, but the beat I can manage,
So every Sweet 16 is like Duke and Kansas.
You tremble for my treble,
You’re begging for the bass.
The voice is too vicious,
The same as the pace.
I rub your face off the Earth and curse your family children,
Like Amityville; I drill the nerves in your cavity filling.
Insanity’s building a pavilion in my civilian
The cannon be the anarchy that humanity’s dealin’.
A villain without remorse who’s willing to out your boss
Forever…and take all the cheddar like child support.