[quote]malonetd wrote:
Rockscar wrote:
Is it okay for David Allen Coe to say “nigger” ten times in one song since it’s country and not rap?
[/quote]
No it’s not OK, to me, nor did I ever say it was.
[quote]DA MAN wrote:
Brotha Lynch Hung
Welcome to your own death
As I bail through the woods of the southside
Terrors on nine milli chrome kill alone cause I trust no sniiiiitch
When I peel a dome and bail
Gone like hell right through the do
I’m rollin’ a fat sack of red boogy boo, nigga ooh
Watch me bail nigga but you don’t see me though
Cause I’m rollin’ fat sacks in the back of my vehicle
But takin’ a puff of the dank stuff
and enough that double O-A-E dooz me
I’m slowly loadin’ up the uzi
Well now who’s he
Well it’s that dead motherfucker do
Well whatcha know comin’ through wit that murder mo
And I heard you know now whose been bustin’ up on the garden block
You either give up the information,
nigga or get shot, so nigga now WHAT!
I guess you wanna dose of this milla
Twenty-four shots from that mommas baby killa
Nigga mack hustla, cap busta, in fact I’m just a mac ten
Bustin’ em at your chin before I crept nigga
Welcome to your own death
Chorus x6
Nigga welcome to your own death
(BUCK! For them who don’t know bout loc to da brain
Them got them nine millimeter strap and true is the game) x2
Some niggas miss my sicc
Some niggas don’t know me, niggas don’t know my click
That O-loc-double-C-O-G rip gut canibal type of shit
Plus many more caps bust
Anymore sacks to roll up, we need that high back
So niggas unload them nines and pull them high jacks
And lie back in the cut and roll another fat one up
Tack one up for loc to the brain
Them niggas that really don’t give a fuck
Around and get buck, shot it up and dump in a truck and left in a cut
So nigga now what ya gon do with a mini mac ten aimed at yo gut
Plus niggas nuts and guts is what I rips for
Creepin’ up in a six four impala
Mobbin’ a loots all up to make you vomit from the raw gut cause
Nah what I do is let my nine do the talkin’
Leavin’ you walkin’ to your funeral loc the smoke from the mac 1-0
I had been bustin’ just in case
I got me a mack eleven for your face that’s leavin’ no trace
Caps leavin’ a gate and puttin’ holes in a niggas neck
So watch the reeper when I creep crept
Welcome to your own death
Chorus x6
When I hit the block with a nine
Them fools better be duckin’
My nigga duck got out the car and started buckin’ at niggas runnin’
untraceable gage shells
Only worry is goin’ to hell
And 5-0 they just can’t swoop
See cause we mobbin’ too well
My murder file done piled more than a nigga expected
See cause have of the city of Sac still ain’t accepted
That I’m a pack and when I’m sweated I’ma put in work
Cause my OG told me why niggas got to kick up some dirt
And I’m tired of warnin’ a motherfucker about a nigga like me
When it’s hard to believe
the nine millimeter comin’ out my pants gonna make you dance
See that’s the city and it’s making a motherfucker stress
Gotta watch your back like 24-7
unless you wanna be livin’ the rest of your life
Up in a cemetery die nigga die I will repeat until you’re buried
That nine millimeter givin’ no motherfuckin’ respect
Up on your back with your last breathe
Welcome to your own death
GREAT song.[/quote]
I can’t believe you would wate time typing that.
Do you believe in a god that brings you down
Do you believe in a god that wears a crown
Do you believe in a god that makes you bow
Or do you believe in ME?
–Marco V
It’s not hip-hop, it’s my life!(trance)
Alright guys lets all stop argueing. If relgion holds true, all you thug rappers are going to hell. Simple as that 
you are much toooo naive to understand the meaning of your predicament. I too understand where you are coming from, when i first heard rap music i too thought and wondered why they cussed so much. But after much exposure in the real world plus as my username suggests 5 years in the Army and being deployed for 2 years i have come to grips with what they are trying to say “the world is full of dirty tricks.”
Actions speak louder than words. After listening to their lyrics and re-listening i have finally understood what they are trying to say. They do not encourage the struggle, they merely rap about it. It is easy to wish that this world is like Mr.Rogers and everyone can get along but it is not the case.
They are not the villians. I.e. to any soldier who is about to get deployed to that god-forsaken country known as IRAQ i highly recommend you listen to “hail mary” by tupac it will prepare you for the struggle to come. These rappers should not be crucified they are saying it like it is, and in order to maintain their artistic integrity they have to cuss so that you can understand what kind of hellhole they used to live in.
P.s. if rap music is so bad then how would you explain someone like me who listened to this “vulgar” hip-hop since i was 11 turn out to be a college graduate ready to get a job and a good law abiding citizen. hint hint it’s all political, the music ain’t the one to blame.
At night I can’t sleep, I toss and turn
Candle sticks in the dark, visions of bodies bein burned
Four walls just starin at a nigga
I’m paranoid, sleepin with my finger on the trigger
My mother’s always stressin I ain’t livin right
But I ain’t going out without a fight
See, everytime my eyes close
I start sweatin, and blood starts comin out my nose
It’s somebody watchin the Ak’
But I don’t know who it is, so I’m watchin my back
I can see him when I’m deep in the covers
When I awake I don’t see the motherfucker
He owns a black hat like I own
A black suit and a cane like my own
Some might say, “Take a chill, B”
But fuck that shit! There’s a nigga trying to kill me
I’m poppin in the clip when the wind blows
Every twenty seconds got me peepin out my window
Investigatin the joint for traps
Checkin my telephone for taps
I’m starin at the woman on the corner
It’s fucked up when your mind is playin tricks on ya
I make big money, I drive big cars
Everybody know me, it’s like I’m a movie star
But late at night, somethin ain’t right
I feel I’m being tailed by the same sucker’s head lights
Is it that fool that I ran off the block?
Or is it that nigga last week that I shot?
Or is it the one I beat for five thousand dollars
Thought he had 'caine but it was Gold Medal Flour
Reach under my seat, grabbed my popper for the suckers
Ain’t no use to me lyin, I was scareder than a motherfucker
Hooked a left into Popeye’s and bailed out quick
If it’s goin down let’s get this shit over with
Here they come, just like I figured
I got my hand on the motherfuckin trigger
What I saw’ll make your ass start gigglin
Three black, crippled and crazy senior citizens
I live by the sword
I take my boys everywhere I go, because I’m paranoid
I keep lookin over my shoulder and peepin around corners
My mind is playin tricks on me
Day by day it’s more impossible to cope
I feel like I’m the one that’s doing dope
Can’t keep a steady hand because I’m nervous
Every Sunday mornin I’m in service
Prayin for forgiveness
And tryin to find an exit out the business
I know the Lord is lookin at me
But yet and still it’s hard for me to feel happy
I often drift while I drive
Havin fatal thoughts of suicide
BANG and get it over with
And then I’m worry-free, but that’s bullshit
I got a little boy to look after
And if I died then my child would be a bastard
I had a woman down with me
But to me it seemed like she was down to get me
She helped me out in this shit
But to me she was just another bitch
Now she’s back with her mother
Now I’m realizing that I love her
Now I’m feelin lonely
My mind is playin tricks on me
This year Halloween fell on a weekend
Me and Geto Boys are trick-or-treatin
Robbin little kids for bags
Till an old man got behind our ass
So we speeded up the pace
Took a look back, and he was right before our face
He’d be in for a squabble no doubt
So I swung and hit the nigga in his mouth
He was goin down, we figured
But this was no ordinary nigga
He stood about six or seven feet
Now, that’s the nigga I’d be seein in my sleep
So we triple-teamed on him
Droppin them motherfuckin B’s on him
The more I swung the more blood flew
Then he disappeared and my boys disappeared, too
Then I felt just like a fiend
It wasn’t even close to Halloween
It was dark as fuck on the streets
My hands were all bloody, from punchin on the concrete
God damn, homie
My mind is playin tricks on me
-Geto Boys, Mind Playin Tricks On Me
“Face down, ass up, that’s the way I like to F**K”
-2 live crew
50 uhh…
Bentley uhh…
[quote]I make big money, I drive big cars
Everybody know me, it’s like I’m a movie star
But late at night, somethin ain’t right
I feel I’m being tailed by the same sucker’s head lights
Is it that fool that I ran off the block?
Or is it that nigga last week that I shot?
Or is it the one I beat for five thousand dollars
Thought he had 'caine but it was Gold Medal Flour
-Geto Boys, Mind Playin Tricks On Me[/quote]
Yes, awesome reference to the Geto Boys. One of my fav old school rap groups. I’m glad someone put this up.
June 28 was the date, .38 to the chest plate, Momma dearest crying at the wake…
More of the boys from the 5th ward.
I can’t say I’m a fan of Rap but the lyrics to The Roots song “The Seed 2.0” are fuckin’ great. Very clever.
"I met this girl, when I was ten years old
And what I loved most she had so much soul
She was old school, when I was just a shorty
Never knew throughout my life she would be there for me
ont he regular, not a church girl she was secular
Not about the money, no studs was mic checkin her
But I respected her, she hit me in the heart
A few New York niggaz, had did her in the park
But she was there for me, and I was there for her
Pull out a chair for her, turn on the air for her
and just cool out, cool out and listen to her
Sittin on a bone, wishin that I could do her
Eventually if it was meant to be, then it would be
because we related, physically and mentally
And she was fun then, I’d be geeked when she’d come around
Slim was fresh yo, when she was underground
Original, pure untampered and down sister
Boy I tell ya, I miss her
Now periodically I would see
ol girl at the clubs, and at the house parties
She didn’t have a body but she started gettin thick quick
DId a couple of videos and became afrocentric
Out goes the weave, in goes the braids beads medallions
She was on that tip about, stoppin the violence
About my people she was teachin me
By not preachin to me but speakin to me
in a method that was leisurely, so easily I approached
She dug my rap, that’s how we got close
But then she broke to the West coast, and that was cool
Cause around the same time, I went away to school
And I’m a man of expandin, so why should I stand in her way
She probably get her money in L.A.
And she did stud, she got big pub but what was foul
She said that the pro-black, was goin out of style
She said, afrocentricity, was of the past
So she got into R&B hip-house bass and jazz
Now black music is black music and it’s all good
I wasn’t salty, she was with the boys in the hood
Cause that was good for her, she was becomin well rounded
I thought it was dope how she was on that freestyle shit
Just havin fun, not worried about anyone
And you could tell, by how her titties hung
I might’ve failed to mention that this chick was creative
But once the man got you well he altered her native
Told her if she got an image and a gimmick
that she could make money, and she did it like a dummy
Now I see her in commercials, she’s universal
She used to only swing it with the inner-city circle
Now she be in the burbs lickin rock and dressin hip
And on some dumb shit, when she comes to the city
Talkin about poppin glocks servin rocks and hittin switches
Now she’s a gangsta rollin with gangsta bitches
Always smokin blunts and gettin drunk
Tellin me sad stories, now she only fucks with the funk
Stressin how hardcore and real she is
She was really the realest, before she got into showbiz
I did her, not just to say that I did it
But I’m committed, but so many niggaz hit it
That she’s just not the same lettin all these groupies do her
I see niggaz slammin her, and takin her to the sewer
But I’ma take her back hopin that the shit stop
Cause who I’m talkin bout y’all is hip-hop"
-Common “I Used to Love H.E.R”
pure genius.
“Where there is cheese there are rats
Where ever there are rats there are cats
Where ever there are cats there are dogs
If you got the dogs, you got bitches
Bitches always out to put their paws on your riches
If you got riches, you got glitches
If you got glitches in your life computer, turn it off
And then reboota, now you back on
Can’t just put the cap on the old bottle once you pop it, that will spoil it
Go on and drink it and enjoy it”
-Andre 3000 “Millionaire” in perfect lyrical form, as always
Most little kids these days are too impressionable to listen to rap, so they shouldn’t. Their parents should see that, if not, they should have their kids taken away.
Most of the top political fatcats are all white, and are from families that were racist. So it’s only natural for them to try and destroy what is now some of the best music around created by blacks. Why do you guys think there are so many gun stores and liquor stores in HOC neighborhoods? To fuel the music? Fuck no, to get us drunk and to kill off other black people… which fuels the music…
Del 3030
Madness Lyrics (Deltron 3030)
Deltron 3030 - Madness Lyrics
In the year three thousand and thirty everybody wants to be an mc
In the year three thousand and thirty everybody want to be a dj
In the year three thousand and thirty everybody want to be a
producer
In the year three thousand and thirty
everybody want to tell ya the meaning of the music
I must appeal to you people with your faculties
Cuz everybody else is gonna laugh at me
People try to get over and take a crack at me
The universe is one and I can see what rap can be glorious
Put in the Smithsonium my podiums for holy hymns
But you see whos controlling them
F**k myself off cuz of the egotistical mode I’m in
No I can’t slap you no five
When you and your cutty is talkin shit about me outside
People take pride in what they have no hand in
Sorta like a phantom holographic handsome
But deep inside he wants to do what his man done
Just because his peers jeer and and clown
When your six foot deep no one hears you now
They say were not compatible like deers and cows and owls
So many rules and regulations say you’re not allowed
I’m caught in the grip of the city Madness (X4)
If I had to describe the way I survive its like vice squeezin
The reason I’m black and still breathin
Heathens will breed heathens so
Everybody’s suspect I must check your ID
Cuz you lookin sheisty you might be intelligence
Someone that Del’s against
Opposite or positive
When I drop the law against nature be faithful
Why should I hate you we ain’t that different
We may act differen’t in some ways
But we still grouped together like a fkin survey
Sufferin and fk em all’s the motto
I’m trapped in a bottle
My music’s gettin hollow
That’s what happens when humanity you follow
Where every leak or info is hard to swallow
Sell your Marlboros and car insurance
Put niggas on the moon and can’t pay your burdens
I smoke herb and rock a turban
Meditate on the world and whats occurrin
A lot of white boys like the style and copy
Dig in something deeper and youll peep that were not free
It’s not about the seperation its about the population
Simple minded people always poin’t the finger
To bring it to a close as if life is their role, their path
When all paths are intersections
It all depends on the persons perception
When I’m mad as f**k you get shot
To tis(?) so is bad luck
I believe you held something back for too long
It grew strong
And enegy has its own will
And people think they make music still
But music is there with out you or me we just manipulate
For better or worse so let it situate
I get to make records and dough
Paid out the ass hole
And still seen as another face on the totem pole
Conquer, my sponsors are monsters
And everybody thinks that I owe them one
I’m glad I love music and life
cuz it’s easy to see the pain and strife and end it all tonight
Madness
La’
Redsol1
Nas has dozens, but this is my favorite:
I Gave You Power
Damn! Look how muh-fuckers use a nigga
Just use me for whatever the fuck they want
I don’t get to say shit
Just grab me, just do what the fuck they want
Sell me, throw me away
Niggaz just don’t give a fuck about a nigga like me right?
Like I’m a f… I’m a gun, shit
It’s like I’m a motherfuckin gun
I can’t believe this shit…
Word up… (word up…)
I seen some cold nights and bloody days
They grab and me bullets spray
They use me wrong so I sing this song 'til this day
My body is cold steel for real
I was made to kill, that’s why they keep me concealed
Under car seats they sneak me in clubs
Been in the hands of mad thugs
They feed me when they load me with mad slugs
Seventeen precisely, one in my head
They call me Desert Eagle, semi-auto with lead
I’m seven inches four pounds, been through so many towns
Ohio to Little Rock to Canarsie, livin harshly
Beat up and battered, they pull me out
I watch as niggaz scattered, makin me kill
But what I feel it never mattered
When I’m empty I’m quiet, findin myself fiendin to be fired
A broken safety, niggaz place me in shelves
under beds, so I beg for my next owner to be a thoroughbred
Keep me full up with hollow heads
Chorus: Nas (repeat 2X)
How you like me now? I go blaow
It’s that shit that moves crowds makin every ghetto foul
I might have took your first child
Scarred your life, crippled your style
I gave you power
I made you buck wild
[Nas]
Always I’m in some shit, my abdomen is the clip
The barrel is my dick, uncircumcised
Pull my skin back and cock me, I bust off when they unlock me
Results of what happens to niggaz shock me
I see niggaz bleedin runnin from me in fear, stunningly tears
fall down the eyes of these so-called tough guys, for years
I’ve been used in robberies, givin niggaz heart to follow me
Placin peoples in graves, funerals made cause I was sprayed
I was laid in a shelf, with a grenade
Met a wrecked-up tech with numbers on his chest that say
Five-two-oh-nine-three-eight-five and zero
Had a serial defaced, hopin one day, police would place
where he came from, a name or some sort of person to claim him
Tired of murderin, made him wanna be a plain gun
But yo I had some other plans, like the next time the beef is on
I make myself jam right in my owner’s hand
Chorus
[Nas]
Yo, weeks went by and I’m surprised
Still stuck in the shelf with all the things that an outlaw hides
Besides me it’s bullets, two vests and then a nine
There’s a grenade in a box, and that tech that kept cryin
Cause he ain’t been cleaned in a year, he’s rusty as clear
He’s bout to fall to pieces, cause of his murder career
Yo, I can hear somebody comin in, open the shelf
His eyes bubblin, he said, “It was on”
I felt his palm troubled him shakin
Somebody stomped him out, his dome was achin
He placed me on his waist, the moment I’ve been waitin
My creation was for blacks to kill blacks
It’s gats like me that accidentally, go off, makin niggaz memories
But this time, it’s done intentionally
He walked me outside, saw this cat
Cocked me back, said, “Remember me?”
He pulled the trigger but I held on, it felt wrong
Knowing niggaz is waiting in hell for 'im
He squeezed harder, I didn’t budge, sick of the blood
Sick of the thugs, sick of wrath of the, next man’s grudge
What the other kid did was pull out, no doubt
A newer me in better shape, before he lit out, he lead the chase
My owner fell to the floor, his wig split so fast
I didn’t know he was hit, it’s over with
Heard mad niggaz screamin, niggaz runnin, cops is comin
Now I’m happy, until I felt somebody else grab me
Damn!
I love tried by 12 lyrics
Cause I’d rather be tried by 12 than carried by 6
also
Immortal Technique - Peruvian Cocaine
[Intro: from the film “Scarface”]
Host: I’ve heard whispers about the financial support
your government receives from the drug industry.
Guest: Well, the irony of this, of course, is that
this money, which is in the billions, is coming from
your country. You see, you are the major purchaser of
our national product, which is of course cocaine.
Host: On one hand, you’re saying the United States
government is spending millions of dollars to
eliminate the flow of drugs onto our streets. At the
same time, we are doing business with the very same
goverment that is flooding our streets with cocaine.
Guest: Mmm-hmm, si, si. Let me show you a few other
characters that are involved in this tragic comedy.
[Beat starts]
Two Men Speak in Spanish
[Immortal Technique - Worker]
I’m on the border of Bolivia, working for pennies
Treated like a slave, the coke fields have to be ready
The spirit of my people is starving, broken and sweaty
Dreaming about revolution (REVOLUTION!) looking at my machete
But the workload is too heavy to rise up in arms
And if I ran away, I know they’d probably murder my moms
So I pray to “Heso Preisto” when I go to the mission
Process the cocaine, paced and play my position
[Pumpkinhead - Cocaine Field Boss]
Ok, listen while I’m out there, just give me my product
Before we chop off ya hands for worker’s misconduct
I got the power to shoot a copper, and not get charged
And it would be sad to see your family in front of a firing squad
So to feed your kids, I need these bricks
40 tons in total, let me test it, indeed I (sniff)
Shit, this is good, pass me a tissue
And don’t worry about them, I paid off the officials
[Diabolic - Peruvian Leader]
Yo, it don’t come as a challenge, I’m the son of some of the foulest
Elected by my people…the only one on the ballot
Born and bred to consult with feds, I laugh at fate
And assassinate my predecessor to have his place
In a third-world fashion state, lock the nation
With 90% of the wealth in 10% of the population
The Central Intelligence Agency takes weight faithfully
The finest type of China white and cocaine you’ll see
[Tonedeff - American Drug Distributor]
Honey I’m home, nevermind why our bank account’s suddenly grown
It’s funny, we’re so out of this debt from this money we owe
Woulda ya…mind if I told you I had two governments overthrown
To keep our son enrolled in a private school, and to keep ya tummy swollen
C’mon, our fuckin’ home was built on the foundation of bloody throats
The hungry stolen of they souls, of course this country’s runnin’ coke
I took a stunted oath to hush the one’s who know
But CIA conducts the flow of these young hustlers who lust for dough
[Poison Pen - Drug Dealer]
I don’t work in the hood (Hit my connect)
Plus what’s really good, they supply for the hood
These dudes fucking crack me up, scrutinize like we inferior
Petrified when we meet in my area (calm down)
My dude’s’ll shoot until I say so, got the loot?
Give me the YAY YAY like Ice Cube, so don’t play with my llello
We won’t stop for you bastards
Must choose (?), chop it and bag it
[Loucipher - Undercover Police Officer]
Taking pictures and tapping phones
Debating snitches and cracking codes
Past a couple, blast the fo’,
Want any hustler stacking dough with probably crack the blow
And my overtime is where your taxes go
I gain your trust
Get you to hand weight to us because we paid up front
On the low with cameras taping ya
Getting pop away? The prison sentence is going to
Make the officer leave with two ki’s out the evidence room
[C-Rayz Walz - Prison Inmate]
Out the evidence room (Said with Loucipher)
Went my fame, truck, boat or plane, they watching you
You think you got work? They copping too
We control blocks, they lock countries
Ya own companies, we had nice cars and sneaker money
Now there’s players out there, talking 'bout the holding
With bugs in they house like they down South with windows open
Your dough ain’t long, you wrong, you take shorts and (?)
Feds will be up in your mouth…like forks and spoons
So enjoy the rush, live plush off Coke bread
Soon you’ll be in a cell with me, like Jenny Lopez
In school, I was a bully, now life is fully a joke
I keep a flow on a boat for Peruvian Coke
Players do favors for governers and tax makers
Fat Quakers smoke crack and sex acts with bad mayors
The walls got ears, you big mouths probably scared
Not prepared to do years like Javier
[Immortal Technique Speaking]
The story just told is an example of the path that
drugs take on their way to every neighborhood, in
every state of this country. It’s a lot deeper than
the niggas on your block. So when they point the
finger at you, brother men, this is what you’ve got to tell them:
[Wesley Snipes - from “New Jack City”]
I’m not guilty. YOU’RE the one that’s guilty. The
lawmakers, the politicians, the Columbian drug lords,
all you who lobby against making drugs legal. Just
like you did with alcohol during the prohibition.
You’re the one who’s guilty. I mean, c’mon, let’s kick
the ballistics here: Ain’t no Uzi’s made in Harlem.
Not one of us in here owns a poppy field. This thing
is bigger than (Immortal Technique). This is big
business. This is the American way.
Classic Biggie
Isn’t this great? Your flight leaves at eight
Her flight lands at nine, my game just rewinds
Lyrically I’m supposed to represent
I’m not only the client, I’m the player president
Didn’t know there were so many heads on T-Nation. Nice to see. Big ups!!