thehacker Posted January 3 Report Share Posted January 3 this thread began a long time ago in a land far awayand is now off in archive-land...here's a link to tha old thread, yo:http://bbs.clubplanet.com/showthread.php?threadid=60459and here's a fresh post fo' dat azz: ----New York, New York, 1983Grandmaster Melle Mel & The Furious FiveAh New York New York big city of dreamsAnd everything in New York ain't always what it seemsYou might get fooled if you come from out of townBut I'm down by law and I know my way around, too muchAh too many people, too much -- a ha hahToo much, too many people, too much, rrrrrrrah!A castle in the sky, one mile highBuilt to shelter the rich and greedyRows of eyes, disguised as windowsLookin DOWN on the poor and the needyMiles of people, marchin up the avenueDoin what they gotta do, just to get byI'm livin in the land of plenty and manyBut I'm damn sure poor and I don't know whyToo much, ah too many people, too muchToo much, too many people, too much!A man's on a ledge, says he's gonna jumpPeople gather round, said, "He won't he's just a chump"Cause he lost his job, then he got robbedHis mortgage is due and his marriage is throughHe says he ain't gonna pay no child supportBecause the bitch left him without a second thoughtHe got nothin to eat, no shoes on his feetShe even left his clothes, out in the streetHe keeps hearin noises when he's at homeHe always hears voices when he's all aloneHis wife took the kids, the car and the cribIn this man's world, so much for women's libNew York New York big city of dreamsBut everything in New York ain't always what it seemsYou might get fooled if you come from out of townBut I'm down by law, and I know my way aroundDown in the Village, you might think I'm sillybut you can't tell the women from the men sometimesThey're sugar and spice and everything niceBut when you get em home ain't no tellin what you findRight next door is a little old manI seen him eatin dog food out of a canHe says, "I got to eat, when I can't afford meatI barely can stand, on my own two feet"I got a bad habit and I just can't break itSomethin's on my mind and I just can't shake itI need some time, and I want some spaceI gotta get away from the human raceToo much, ah too many people, too much... a-ha hahToo much, ah too many people, too much! Rrrrrrrah!Stand at a skyscraper reachin into heavenWhen over in the ghetto I'm livin in hellJust play ball or be an entertainercause niggaz like me can't read too wellNobody loves me, nobody caresI dreamed about a life but I'm livin in a nightmareParanoid schitzo, set back, snowboundBad news psycho, heart attack, breakdown!Hee, huh (16X) HUH!If only I could sleep just ten more minutesI might find the strength to make another dayIf I didn't have to get up, and do my thingI would probably sleep my whole life awayI messed up a nice dream, somethin bout ice creamWhipped cream fruits and a cherry on topNow I gotta get up and face the world, huhThe pressure is on it ain't never gonna stopI sho' gotta learn to use my mindI don't wanna be kissin nobody's behindJust standin on line lookin like a jerkGotta get off my butt and do a full day's workI ran into a pothole, got into a car crashShoulda been thinkin and tried to fake whiplashA crowd gathered round, they're callin me fatWho you lookin at wit a face like that?New York New York big city of dreamsEverything in New York ain't always what it seemsYou might get fooled if you come from out of townBut I'm down by law and I know my way aroundOn 42nd Street, lookin for some actionWomen standin on the corner sellin satisfactionOne young punk just leanin on the fenceTryin to make a dollar out of fifteen centsReally is a prankster, tried to be a gangsterReal big wheel when a gun is in his handsJust did a stick-up, just got picked upOne dead punk, killed by the manNew York New York big city of dreamsAnd everything in New York ain't always what it seemYou might get fooled if you come from out of townBut I'm down by law and I know my way aroundToo much, too many people, too much... ah ha hah hahToo much, too many people, too much! HUAHH!A baby cries and a mother diesAnd the tears fall from the doctor's eyes becausein this room, on this dayThe Good Lord has giveth, and taketh away, huhThe gift of life really means a lotAnd in the ghetto your life is all you gotSo you take to the streets, tryin to existin the trash and slime of a world like thisWhat you watch, on TVa tells you what life is supposed to beBut when you look outside the only thing you seeIs the poverty stricken, reality, hehAbandoned places, angry facesMuch hate and hunger through-out the racesYou say, "I'm grown and I'm on my ownSo why don't everybody just leave me alone!"Now you stay at home, talkin on the phoneDoin ninety miles an hour in the fifty mile zoneThey never took the time to tell you bout sexSo you had to learn about it in the discothequesNine months later, the baby is thereand the nigga that did it said, "I don't care!"You don't have enough money to help feed twoSo you have to choose between the baby and youThe sky was cryin, rain and hailWhen you put yo' baby in the garbage pailThen you kissed the kid and put down the lidAnd you tried to forget what you just did, huhThe muffled screams of a dyin babywas enough to drive the young mother crazyso she ran in the rain tryin to ease the painHuh huh, and she drove herself insaneNew York New York big city of dreamsBut everything in New York ain't always what it seemYou might get fooled if you come from out of townBut I'm down by law and I know my way aroundAh too much, too many people, too much... ah ha hah hahToo much, too many people, too much! HUHHH!New York New York big city of dreamsBut everything in New York ain't always what it seemsYou might get fooled if you come from out of townBut I'm down by law and I know my way aroundToo much, too many people, too much... ha hah hah hahToo much, too many people, too much Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jght7 Posted January 3 Report Share Posted January 3 Artist: Eric B and RakimAlbum: Paid In FullSong: I Ain't No JokeI ain't no joke, I use to let the mic smokeNow I slam it when I'm done and make sure it's brokeWhen i'm gone no one gets on 'cause I won't letNobody press up and mess up the scene I setI like to stand in a crowd and watch the people wonder damnBut think about it then you'll understandI'm just an addict addicted to musicMaybe it's a habit, I gotta use itEven if it's jazz or the quiet stormI hook a beat up convert it into hip-hop formWrite a rhyme in graffitti in every show you see me inDeep concentration cuz I'm no comedianJokers are wild if you wanna be tameI treat you like a child then you're gonna be namedAnother enemy, not even a friend of meCuz you'll get fried in the end when you pretend to becompeting cuz I just put your mind on pauseAnd I can beat you when you compare my rhyme wit yoursI wake you up and as I stare in your face you seem stunnedRemember me, the one you got your idea fromBut soon you start to sufferbut it only gets rougherWhen you start to stutter that's when you had enuff ofBiting it, It'll make you choke, you can't provokeYou can't cope, you should of broke cuz I ain't no jokeI got a question, it's serious as cancerWho can keep the average dancerHyper as a heart attack, nobody smilingCuz you're expressing the rhyme that I'm stylingThis is what we all sit down to writeYou can't make it so you take it home, break it and biteUse pieces and bits of all the hip-hop hitsGet the style down pack then it's time to ?swit?Put my tape on pause and add some more to yoursThen you figure you're ready for the neighborhood choresAn E-M-C-E-E don't even try to beWhen you come up to speak, don't even lie to meYou like to exaggerate, dream and imaginateThen change the rhyme around, that can aggravate meSo when you see me come up, freezeOr you'll be one of those 7 MC'sThey think that I'm a new jack but only if they knew thatThey who think wrong are they who can't do thatStyle that I'm doing, they might ruinPatterns of paragraphs based on you andYour offbeat DJ, if anything he playSound familiar, I'll wait til E sayPlay 'em, so I'ma have to dis and brokeYou could get a smack for this, I ain't no jokeI hold the microphone like a grudgeB. will hold the record so the needle don't budgeI hold a conversation cuz what I inventI nominated my DJ the presdentWhen I'm ??see??, I'll keep a freestyle, going steadilySo pucker up and whistle my melodyBut whatever you do, don't miss oneThey'll be another rough rhyme after this oneBefore you know it, you're following and fiendingWaiting for the punchline to get the meaningLike before the middle of my story I'm tellingNobody beats the R so stop yellingSave it, put it in your pocket for laterCuz I'm moving the crowd and B. a record faderNo interruptions 'til the mic is brokeWhen I'm gone, then you can jokeCuz everything is real on a serious tipKeep playing and I get furious quickAnd take you for a walk through hellFreeze your dome then watch your eyeballs swellGuide you out of triple stage darknessWhen it get dark again then I'ma spark thisMicrophone cuz the heat is on, you see smokeAnd I'm finish when the beat is gone, I'm no joke Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
jght7 Posted January 3 Report Share Posted January 3 Artist: Boggie Down ProductionsAlbum: By All Means NecessarySong: My Philosophy Voice #1: So, you're a philosopher? Voice #2: Yes, I think very deeply. [repeated and scratched]KRS-One: In about 4 seconds a teacher will begin to speak..[Verse One]Let us begin, what, where, why, or whenwill all be explained like instructions to a gameSee I'm not insane, in fact, I'm kind of rationalwhen I be asking you, "Who is more dramatical?"This one or that one, the white one or the black onepick the punk, and I'll jump up to attack oneKRS-One is just the guy to lead a crewright up to your face and dis youEveryone saw me on the last album coverHolding a pistol something far from a loverBeside my brother, S-C-O-T-TI just laugh, cause no one can defeat meThis is lecture number two, "My Philosophy"Number one, was "Poetry" you know it's meThis is my philosophy, many artists got to learnI'm not flammable, I don't burnso please stop burnin, and learn to earn respect'cause that's just what KR collectssee, what do you expect when you rhyme like a soft punkyou walk down the street and get jumpedYou got to have style, and learn to be originaland everybody's gonna wanna diss youlike me, we stood up for the South Bronxand every sucka mc had a responseYou think we care? I know that they are on the tipmy posse from the Bronx is thickand we're real live, we roll correctlya lot of suckas would like to forget me but they can't, cause like a champI have got a record of knocking out the frauds in a secondon the mic, I believe that you should get looseI haven't come to tell you I got juiceI just produce, create, innovate on a higher levelI'll be back, but for now just seckle![Verse Two]I'll play the nine and you play the targetyou all know my name so I guess I'll just start itor should I say, "Start this," I am an artistof new concepts at their hardestcause, yo, I'm a teacher and Scott is a scholarIt ain't about money cause we all make dollarsThat's why I walk with my head upwhen I hear wack rhymes I get fed upRap is like a set-up, a lot of gamesa lot of suckas with colorful namesI'm so-and-so, I'm this, I'm thathuh, but they all just wick-wick-wackI'm not white or red or black I'm brown.. from the Boogie DownProductions, of course our music be thumpin'others say they're bad, but they're bugginlet me show you somethin' now about hip hopabout D-Nice, Melodie, and Scott La RockI'll get a pen, a pencil, a markermainly what I write is for the average New Yorkersome mc's be talkin' and talkin'tryin' to show how black people are walkinbut I don't walk this way to portrayor reinforce stereotypes of todaylike all my brothas eat chicken and watermelontalk broken english and drug sellin'See I'm tellin, and teaching real factsThe way some act in rap is kind of wackand it lacks creativity and intelligencebut they don't care cause the company is sellin' itIt's my philosophy, on the industryDon't bother dissin me, or even wish that we'dsoften, dilute, or commercialized all the lyricsCause it's about time one of y'all hear itAnd hear it first-hand from the intelligent brown manA vegetarian, no goat or hamor chicken or turkey or hamburger'cause to me that's suicide self-murderlet us get back to what we call hip hopand what it meant to DJ Scott La Rock...[Verse Three]How many mc's must get dissedbefore somebody says, "Don't f*** with Kris!"this is just one style, out of manyLike a piggy bank, this is one pennyMy brother's name is Kenny - that's, Kenny ParkerMy other brother I.C.U. is much darkerBoogie Down Productions is made up of teachersthe lecture is conducted from the mic into the speakerWho gets weaker? The king or the teacherIt's not about a salary it's all about realityTeachers teach and do the world goodkings just rule and most are never understoodIf you were to rule or govern a certain industryAll inside this room right now would be in miseryNo one would get along nor sing a song'cause everyone'd be singing for the king, am I wrong?!So yo, what's up, it's me againScott La Rock, KRS, BDP againmany people had the nerve to think we would end the trendWith "Criminal Minded", an album which is only tenFunky, funky, funky, funky, funky hit recordsno more than four minutes and some secondsthe competition checks and checks and keeps checkin'they buy the album, take it home, and start sweatin'why? well it's simple, to them it's kind of vitalto take KRS-One's titleto them I'm like an idol, some type of entityin everybody's rhyme they wanna mention me?or rather mention us, me and Scott La Rockbut they can get bust get robbed, get droppedI don't play around nor do I f*** aroundand you can tell by the bodies that are left aroundwhen some clown jumps up to get beat downbroken down to his very last compoundsee how it sounds? a little unrationala lot of mc's like to use the word DRAMATICAL!Fresh for '88, you suckas... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
ronalds Posted January 3 Report Share Posted January 3 Artist: Slick RickAlbum: The Adventures of Slick RickSong: Children's StoryHere we go,Once upon a time not long ago,when people wore pajamas and lived life slow,When laws were stern and justice stood,and people were behavin' like they ought ta good,There lived a lil' boy who was misled,by anotha lil' boy and this is what he said:"Me, Ya, Ty, we gonna make sum cash,robbin' old folks and makin' tha dash",They did the job, money came with ease,but one couldn't stop, it's like he had a disease,He robbed another and another and a sista and her brotha,tried to rob a man who was a D.T. undercover,The cop grabbed his arm, he started acting erratic,he said "Keep still, boy, no need for static",Punched him in his belly and he gave him a slap,but little did he know the lil' boy was strapped,The kid pulled out a gun, he said "Why did ya hit me ?",the barrel was set straight for the cop's kidney,The cop got scared, the kid, he starts to figure,"I'll do years if I pull this trigga",So he cold dashed and ran around the block,cop radioes it to another lady cop,He ran by a tree, there he saw this sista,a shot for the head, he shot back but he missed her,Looked around good and from expectations,so he decided he'd head for the subway stations,But she was coming and he made a left,he was runnin' top speed till he was outta breath,Knocked an old man down and swore he killed him,then he made his move to an abandoned building,Ran up the stairs up to the top floor,opened up the door there, guess who he saw?,Dave the dope fiend shootin' dope,who don't know the meaning of water nor soap,He said "I need bullets, hurry up, run!"the dope fiend brought back a spanking shotgun,He went outside but there was cops all over,then he dipped into a car, a stolen Nova (?),Raced up the block doing 83,crashed into a tree near university,Escaped alive though the car was battered,rat-a-tat-tatted and all the cops scattered,Ran out of bullets and still had static,grabbed a pregnant lady and out the automatic,Pointed at her head and he said the gun was full o' lead,he told the cops "Back off or honey here's dead",Deep in his heart he knew he was wrong,so he let the lady go and he starts to run on,Sirens sounded, he seemed astounded,before long the lil' boy got surrounded,He dropped the gun, so went the glory,and this is the way I must end this story,He was only seventeen, in a madman's dream,the cops shot the kid, I still hear him scream,This ain't funny so don't ya dare laugh,just another case 'bout the wrong path,Straight 'n narrow or yo' soul gets cast(?).Good Night. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
thehacker Posted January 3 Author Report Share Posted January 3 boomshaka! THE THREAD LIVES ON!!! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
remy5150 Posted January 3 Report Share Posted January 3 Artist: Gangstarr (feat. Nice & Smooth)Album: Hard To EarnSong: DWYCKIntro: Greg NiceAh yeah, here's another Gangstarr sure shot, featuring the one and only, uh heh heh heh handly handly boy, Nice & Smooth, hey, hey,HEY, HEY!!!!Ganstarr has got to be da sure shotNice & Smooth has got to be da sure shot(Repeat 2X)[Greg Nice]Greg Nice!!! Greg N-I-C-EDroppin dem basso, ah oui ouiRock for a fee, not for freeMaybe I'll do it for charityNow my employer or my employeeIs makin Greg N-I-C-E very M-A-DDon't ever ever think of jerkin meI work to hard for my royaltyPut lead in ya ass and drink a cup of teaPeace to Red Alert and Kid CapriOoohh la la ah oui oui, I say Muhammad Ali, ya say Cassius ClayI say butter you say ParkayIt's alright if ya wanna make a swayI'm a way up town, took duece to the treI originate, they duplicateI praise the lord and keep the faithIt's alright keep bitin at da bait'92, uh!!, one year laterPeace out Premier take me out wit da fader[Premier scratches and hooks][Guru]I chant eenie meenie, minie moeI wreck da mic like a pimp pimps hoesHere's how it goes I am a genius I mean thisI shake this you'll take thisI'm kinda fiendishYou wish that you could come into my neighborhoodMeaning my mental stateStill I'm 5 foot 8Crazy as I wanna beCause I make it orderlyYou could say I'm sorta da boss so get lostThe brotha dat will make you change opinionsDominions I'm in them when it's time to kick shit fromThe heart, plus I get a piece of the actionI'm feelin satisfaction from the street crowd reactionChumps pull guns when they feel afraid, too lateWhen they dip in the kick they get sprayedLemonade was a popular drink and in still isI get more props den stunts den Bruce WillisA poet like Langston Hughes and can't lose when I cruiseOut on the expresswayLeavin the Bodega I say "suave"Premier's got more beats den barns got hayClips are inserted into my gunSo I can take the money, neva have ta run[Premier scratches and hooks][smooth B]I left my Phillie at homeDo you have another?I wanna get blunted my brotherNow may I make a markThen make a spark over this phat trackOr should I say dope beatSubtract, deleteAll of the wick wack that wanna be abstractBut they lack the new knack that's comin from way way backHey yo Premier, please pass that buddha sackYou hear we quit?No way, bullshitI told ya before we come back wit more hitsI provide bright flava, so you could sketch meDo me a favor, dont try and catch meSlightly ahead of the game, I'm not a lameAsk him, he'll tell you the same he knows my nameSmooth, I drop jewels like, paraphenaliaI'm infallable, not into failureLike a rhinocerus, my speed is prosperousAnd pure knowledge expands from my esophagusI write here tonite to bring truth to the lightMy dialogue is my own cause Smooth B will neva bite Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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