Post by: tutyet on May 07, 2005, 02:17:00 PM
for example,
by Method Man
"i came to bring the pain hardcore to the brain" (he fucked up the rest of it lol)
or
Dr Dre
"with my mind on my money and my money on my mind"
but im sure you know, or can make up better ones then that!
Post by: The*galloping*zebra on May 07, 2005, 04:30:00 PM
Post by: tutyet on May 08, 2005, 05:05:00 AM
also i don't think it will be a good idea if you start posting paragraphs because it will get bigger and bigger.
and if you dont think method man is a good rapper then go listen to his stuff.
Post by: Silentscream__ on May 08, 2005, 05:09:00 AM
QUOTE(reZz @ May 8 2005, 06:05 AM)
Wow, those are horrible lines man. I really hope you don't think Method Man and Dr.Dre are good rappers. Anyways, here's some of my favorites.
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: icedoutxbox on May 08, 2005, 09:49:00 AM
-
And said um mirror mirror, on, the wall
Who is the top dogg of them all?
There was a rubble dubble, five minutes it lasted
The mirror said, you are you conceited bastard-snoop dogg, lodi dodi
Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice
Laid back-gin and juice
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: tutyet on May 08, 2005, 10:58:00 AM
-
cypress hill feat meth doc and B.
if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture
I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler
Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller
Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: chilin_dude on May 08, 2005, 12:25:00 PM
-
'Fo shizzle ma nizzle.'
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: XBL_SUCKS on May 08, 2005, 12:33:00 PM
-
First off all Method Man is sick he kills it in almost every old school joint just listen wo any Wu cd and you will be amazed on what they are spittin'
But I like this in Freestyle '98
Fuckin punk, you ain't a +Leader+ what? Nobody +Follow-ed+ you
You was never shit, your mother shoulda swallowed you
(Mmmm.. WHOO!) You on some tagalong flunkie yes man shit
Do me a favor, please get off the next man dick
And if you think I can't fuck with whoever, put your money up
Put your jewels up, no fuck it put your honey up
Put your raggedy house up nigga, or shut your mouth up
before I buck lead, and make a lot of blood shed
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: The*galloping*zebra on May 09, 2005, 09:02:00 AM
-
Don't you love it when rappers add things to the end of and make up words to make them rhyme?
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: tutyet on May 11, 2005, 10:45:00 AM
-
Post by: icedoutxbox on May 08, 2005, 09:49:00 AM
Who is the top dogg of them all?
There was a rubble dubble, five minutes it lasted
The mirror said, you are you conceited bastard-snoop dogg, lodi dodi
Rollin down the street, smokin indo, sippin on gin and juice
Laid back-gin and juice
Post by: tutyet on May 08, 2005, 10:58:00 AM
if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture
I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler
Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller
Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer
Post by: chilin_dude on May 08, 2005, 12:25:00 PM
Post by: XBL_SUCKS on May 08, 2005, 12:33:00 PM
But I like this in Freestyle '98
Fuckin punk, you ain't a +Leader+ what? Nobody +Follow-ed+ you
You was never shit, your mother shoulda swallowed you
(Mmmm.. WHOO!) You on some tagalong flunkie yes man shit
Do me a favor, please get off the next man dick
And if you think I can't fuck with whoever, put your money up
Put your jewels up, no fuck it put your honey up
Put your raggedy house up nigga, or shut your mouth up
before I buck lead, and make a lot of blood shed
Post by: The*galloping*zebra on May 09, 2005, 09:02:00 AM
QUOTE
I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler
Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller
Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer
Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller
Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer
Don't you love it when rappers add things to the end of and make up words to make them rhyme?
Post by: tutyet on May 11, 2005, 10:45:00 AM
QUOTE(The*galloping*zebra @ May 9 2005, 03:08 PM)
Don't you love it when rappers add things to the end of and make up words to make them rhyme?
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: witfill on May 11, 2005, 11:29:00 AM
-
i think dmx's following lyric can never be topped, EVER:
"i got blood on my hands and i got no remorse
i got blood on my dick caused i fucked a corpse, i'm a nasty nigga"
enough said...
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: DjO on May 11, 2005, 11:36:00 AM
-
Post by: witfill on May 11, 2005, 11:29:00 AM
"i got blood on my hands and i got no remorse
i got blood on my dick caused i fucked a corpse, i'm a nasty nigga"
enough said...
Post by: DjO on May 11, 2005, 11:36:00 AM
QUOTE(witfill @ May 11 2005, 10:35 AM)
i think dmx's following lyric can never be topped, EVER:
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: SNMNMNM! on May 11, 2005, 12:39:00 PM
-
I'm in awe that such horrendous bullshit could even masquerade as music; disgusting.
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: tutyet on May 11, 2005, 01:41:00 PM
-
Post by: SNMNMNM! on May 11, 2005, 12:39:00 PM
Post by: tutyet on May 11, 2005, 01:41:00 PM
QUOTE(SNMNMNM! @ May 11 2005, 06:45 PM)
I'm in awe that such horrendous bullshit could even masquerade as music; disgusting.
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: SNMNMNM! on May 11, 2005, 02:52:00 PM
-
Post by: SNMNMNM! on May 11, 2005, 02:52:00 PM
QUOTE(tutyet @ May 11 2005, 07:47 PM)
you would think a stupid mother fucker like you would eventually find it boring to crap on people's threads and make more accounts, but your mentality is even lower then that so if i were you i would keep you ass out of my threads or i will try my best to band you from the x-s altogether, this will mean the admin will band your IP address and you will not be able to bring your useless ass here, which will be a lot easier on a lot of people.
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: xbx_gamin on May 11, 2005, 03:00:00 PM
-
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: drunkmunk on May 12, 2005, 02:46:00 AM
-
Post by: xbx_gamin on May 11, 2005, 03:00:00 PM
Post by: drunkmunk on May 12, 2005, 02:46:00 AM
QUOTE(icedoutxbox @ May 8 2005, 03:55 PM)
And said um mirror mirror, on, the wall
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: BmoreI9s06 on June 29, 2005, 10:30:00 AM
-
All white trimmed in gray
Bubbled laced to the top on with me
All day, collecting pay in the ass of a jay
Or any sucka nigga trying to get in my way
Stay kicking this muthafucking G.A. clay
With a limp and a sway and I don't play
Hoes keep asking pimp why the the same 'ol shoes?
Bitch, I'm four pairs deep and I done paid my do's
(My Air Forces)
Call number one like me
Hanging out the Chevy door when I stomp on the street
Concaine white leather feel good one my feet
Heyyyy, they ganranteed to keep you from the police
With bold they aint scuffed
The strap holding me up
My shoulder boy-cut
Who need platuim wwith super Dave, when dem boys be stuntin'
Nigga I'm just ballin' it up in my Air Forces - T.I.
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: BmoreI9s06 on June 29, 2005, 10:33:00 AM
-
What it do
I'm on the block posted up like a mailbox
slangin licks on, the grind, puttin money in my socks
a legend in the hood for gold grills and poppin seals
a icon on the mic for showcasing my verbal skills
I'm in the club posted up wit some gang bangas
still flippin a ol' school candy cadillac on swangas
I got a styrophome white cup full of that drank
lookin for that dank, my hustle game sharp as a shank
big bank take little bank 80 4's and candy paint
tryna find some honey love, my mackin game is top rank
these ho's peepin me, ill hustlin on the side
eaves droppin my conversations, tryna figure which car I drive
I'm on the scene strapped up like I was bungee jumpin
hit the corner you hear me bumpin
look at that cold grillin' woman
the trunks popped up, my music screwed and chopped
I'm the undisputed king of the parking lot, I'm sittin sidewayz - Paul Wall
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: deftonesmx17 on June 29, 2005, 10:52:00 AM
-
I can fight this nigga
I can whoop this nigga
I can [Gun loading] [Gun Shots]
BOOM! With the trigger
I can rob this boy, I can mob this boy
I can call a fucking killer, do a job on this boy
I can make this fool, I can rape this fool
I can get them off my five o-clock or ten o-clock news
I can lend a helping hand
I can be your fucking friend
I can leave his body stankin' in a Kroger garbage can
THREE 6 MAFIA
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: BmoreI9s06 on June 29, 2005, 01:11:00 PM
-
Post by: BmoreI9s06 on June 29, 2005, 10:30:00 AM
Bubbled laced to the top on with me
All day, collecting pay in the ass of a jay
Or any sucka nigga trying to get in my way
Stay kicking this muthafucking G.A. clay
With a limp and a sway and I don't play
Hoes keep asking pimp why the the same 'ol shoes?
Bitch, I'm four pairs deep and I done paid my do's
(My Air Forces)
Call number one like me
Hanging out the Chevy door when I stomp on the street
Concaine white leather feel good one my feet
Heyyyy, they ganranteed to keep you from the police
With bold they aint scuffed
The strap holding me up
My shoulder boy-cut
Who need platuim wwith super Dave, when dem boys be stuntin'
Nigga I'm just ballin' it up in my Air Forces - T.I.
Post by: BmoreI9s06 on June 29, 2005, 10:33:00 AM
I'm on the block posted up like a mailbox
slangin licks on, the grind, puttin money in my socks
a legend in the hood for gold grills and poppin seals
a icon on the mic for showcasing my verbal skills
I'm in the club posted up wit some gang bangas
still flippin a ol' school candy cadillac on swangas
I got a styrophome white cup full of that drank
lookin for that dank, my hustle game sharp as a shank
big bank take little bank 80 4's and candy paint
tryna find some honey love, my mackin game is top rank
these ho's peepin me, ill hustlin on the side
eaves droppin my conversations, tryna figure which car I drive
I'm on the scene strapped up like I was bungee jumpin
hit the corner you hear me bumpin
look at that cold grillin' woman
the trunks popped up, my music screwed and chopped
I'm the undisputed king of the parking lot, I'm sittin sidewayz - Paul Wall
Post by: deftonesmx17 on June 29, 2005, 10:52:00 AM
I can whoop this nigga
I can [Gun loading] [Gun Shots]
BOOM! With the trigger
I can rob this boy, I can mob this boy
I can call a fucking killer, do a job on this boy
I can make this fool, I can rape this fool
I can get them off my five o-clock or ten o-clock news
I can lend a helping hand
I can be your fucking friend
I can leave his body stankin' in a Kroger garbage can
THREE 6 MAFIA
Post by: BmoreI9s06 on June 29, 2005, 01:11:00 PM
QUOTE(deftonesmx17 @ Jun 29 2005, 02:03 PM)
I can fight this nigga
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: killerbootsman on June 29, 2005, 01:32:00 PM
-
If you want beef, then bring the ruckus
Wu Tang Clan aint nothin to fuck with
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: Jaguar God Imix on June 30, 2005, 08:43:00 PM
-
.
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: gcskate27 on June 30, 2005, 10:40:00 PM
-
one time i was 'freestylin' and i used the word 'rhyme' with 'time'... it brought the house down appropriately...
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: br0w on July 02, 2005, 09:57:00 AM
-
jack and jill, ran up the hill, to fetch a pail of water. jack fell down, and broke his crown, and jill came tumbling after. izzle.
YO.
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: The*galloping*zebra on July 02, 2005, 11:06:00 AM
-
Jack and Jill is over-rated, give me Humpty Dumpty anyday. GENIOUS!
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: Capon-E on July 03, 2005, 12:54:00 PM
-
Jack and Jill will boot stomp humpty dumpty anyday yo, Those fools are running mad deep son. Be real.
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: .:Dino:. on September 17, 2005, 03:09:00 AM
-
i got a hell of a lyric.
"niggas dont want beef there vegetarian, scared of pussy they were born under cesarean"
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: ILLusions0fGrander on September 17, 2005, 03:14:00 AM
-
-
Title: So You Got Any Good Rymes?
Post by: the_iLLmatic_one on September 25, 2005, 08:03:00 PM
-
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
Verbal Intercourse - Nas
Lyrical, ly-lyrical mission..
Lyrical..
Yo the time is wastin, I use the mind elevation
Dime sack lacin, court pen pacin
Individual, lyrical math abrasion
Psychic evaluation, the foulest nation
We livin in, dangerous lives, mad leak and battered wives
A lifestyle where bad streets is patternized
Wise men build and destroy
While the real McCoy dopefiend, named Detroit is still dealin boy
Coke suppliers actin biased
Cause rumors say that niggaz wear wires and we liars
But every night the gat's fired, and every day a rat's hired
I still remain the mack flyest in the phat Kani, it's --
-- just the killer in me, slash drug dealer MC
Ex-slug filler, semi mug peeler
Demi, bottles of Mo', yo simply follow me flow
Put poetry inside a crack pot and blow
rough holes for cracked out pussies and buttholes
Bring the G's and the D's roll, they can't touch those
Why shoot the breeze about it, when you could be about it?
My degrees are routed, toward the peasy haired brick houses
instead of the fake medallions
Rich niggaz transport in thousands
Foreign cash exchange amountin to millions
Doors is locked, rocks is chopped, watch the cameras in the ceilings
Trick bitches catching mad feelings
Peelin off in the Lex Jeep, techniques is four-wheelin
I bet it be some shit when we connect with Stretch
When we catch them sex niggaz with the tecs you blessed, word
So now it's on, never wasted a slug,
Time is money when it comes to mine, take it in blood
Take It In Blood - Nas
One for the money
Two for pussy and foreign cars
Three for Alize niggaz deceased or behind bars
I rap divine Gods check the prognosis, is it real or showbiz?
My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses
Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real
A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja
Here's my basis, my razor embraces, many faces
Your telephone blowin, black stitches or fat shoelaces
Peoples are petrol, dramatic automatic fo'-fo' I let blow
and back down po-po when I'm vexed so
my pen taps the paper then my brain's blank
I see dark streets, hustlin brothers who keep the same rank
Pumpin for somethin, some uprise, plus some fail
Judges hangin niggaz, uncorrect bails, for direct sales
My intellect prevails from a hangin cross with nails
I reinforce the frail, with lyrics that's real
Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats
I decifer prophecies through a mic and say peace.
I hung around the older crews while they sling smack to dingbats
They spoke of Fat Cat, that nigga's name made bell rings, black
Some fiends scream, about Supreme Team, a Jamaica Queens thing
Uptown was Alpo, son, heard he was kingpin, yo
Fuck 'rap is real', watch the herbs stand still
Never talkin to snakes cause the words of man kill
True in the game, as long as blood is blue in my veins
I pour my Heineken brew to my deceased crew on memory lane
Memory Lane - Nas
Post by: killerbootsman on June 29, 2005, 01:32:00 PM
Wu Tang Clan aint nothin to fuck with
Post by: Jaguar God Imix on June 30, 2005, 08:43:00 PM
.
Post by: gcskate27 on June 30, 2005, 10:40:00 PM
Post by: br0w on July 02, 2005, 09:57:00 AM
YO.
Post by: The*galloping*zebra on July 02, 2005, 11:06:00 AM
QUOTE
jack and jill, ran up the hill, to fetch a pail of water. jack fell down, and broke his crown, and jill came tumbling after. izzle.
Jack and Jill is over-rated, give me Humpty Dumpty anyday. GENIOUS!
Post by: Capon-E on July 03, 2005, 12:54:00 PM
Post by: .:Dino:. on September 17, 2005, 03:09:00 AM
"niggas dont want beef there vegetarian, scared of pussy they were born under cesarean"
Post by: ILLusions0fGrander on September 17, 2005, 03:14:00 AM
QUOTE
I'm obnoxious, motherfucker can't you tell
run through Little Havannah yelling: 'Viva Fidel'
jerking off at the sheets when I stay at hotels
drinking bacardi at AA meetings, smoking a L
I'm broke as hell my attitude is no good
like working for white people after watching rosewood
swallow mecenary, I don't care how I get richer
like American companies that did business with Hitler
get the picture nigga, I'm the best of both worlds
without the hidden camera, and the 12 year old girl
at stage at your basics, you aren't half the man that I am
I throw your gang sign up, and then I'll spit on my hand
give me a hundred grand, give me your watch, give me your chain
that's your girl, bitch get over here, give me some brain
I'll bust of on her face, and right after the segment
she'll propably rub it in her pussy, trying to get herself pregnant
I said it I meant it, that's the way I deal with enemies
like pro lifers, that support the death penalty
and don't talk about war, when niggaz know that your pus
a fucking hipocrit draft charger like George Bush
don't push me nigga, cuz I'm close to the edge
and I'll jump of with a rope that's wrapped around your head
send a dead fetus to my ex on valentines day
the safety's off nigga, so get the fuck out my way
run through Little Havannah yelling: 'Viva Fidel'
jerking off at the sheets when I stay at hotels
drinking bacardi at AA meetings, smoking a L
I'm broke as hell my attitude is no good
like working for white people after watching rosewood
swallow mecenary, I don't care how I get richer
like American companies that did business with Hitler
get the picture nigga, I'm the best of both worlds
without the hidden camera, and the 12 year old girl
at stage at your basics, you aren't half the man that I am
I throw your gang sign up, and then I'll spit on my hand
give me a hundred grand, give me your watch, give me your chain
that's your girl, bitch get over here, give me some brain
I'll bust of on her face, and right after the segment
she'll propably rub it in her pussy, trying to get herself pregnant
I said it I meant it, that's the way I deal with enemies
like pro lifers, that support the death penalty
and don't talk about war, when niggaz know that your pus
a fucking hipocrit draft charger like George Bush
don't push me nigga, cuz I'm close to the edge
and I'll jump of with a rope that's wrapped around your head
send a dead fetus to my ex on valentines day
the safety's off nigga, so get the fuck out my way
Post by: the_iLLmatic_one on September 25, 2005, 08:03:00 PM
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
Verbal Intercourse - Nas
Lyrical, ly-lyrical mission..
Lyrical..
Yo the time is wastin, I use the mind elevation
Dime sack lacin, court pen pacin
Individual, lyrical math abrasion
Psychic evaluation, the foulest nation
We livin in, dangerous lives, mad leak and battered wives
A lifestyle where bad streets is patternized
Wise men build and destroy
While the real McCoy dopefiend, named Detroit is still dealin boy
Coke suppliers actin biased
Cause rumors say that niggaz wear wires and we liars
But every night the gat's fired, and every day a rat's hired
I still remain the mack flyest in the phat Kani, it's --
-- just the killer in me, slash drug dealer MC
Ex-slug filler, semi mug peeler
Demi, bottles of Mo', yo simply follow me flow
Put poetry inside a crack pot and blow
rough holes for cracked out pussies and buttholes
Bring the G's and the D's roll, they can't touch those
Why shoot the breeze about it, when you could be about it?
My degrees are routed, toward the peasy haired brick houses
instead of the fake medallions
Rich niggaz transport in thousands
Foreign cash exchange amountin to millions
Doors is locked, rocks is chopped, watch the cameras in the ceilings
Trick bitches catching mad feelings
Peelin off in the Lex Jeep, techniques is four-wheelin
I bet it be some shit when we connect with Stretch
When we catch them sex niggaz with the tecs you blessed, word
So now it's on, never wasted a slug,
Time is money when it comes to mine, take it in blood
Take It In Blood - Nas
One for the money
Two for pussy and foreign cars
Three for Alize niggaz deceased or behind bars
I rap divine Gods check the prognosis, is it real or showbiz?
My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses
Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real
A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja
Here's my basis, my razor embraces, many faces
Your telephone blowin, black stitches or fat shoelaces
Peoples are petrol, dramatic automatic fo'-fo' I let blow
and back down po-po when I'm vexed so
my pen taps the paper then my brain's blank
I see dark streets, hustlin brothers who keep the same rank
Pumpin for somethin, some uprise, plus some fail
Judges hangin niggaz, uncorrect bails, for direct sales
My intellect prevails from a hangin cross with nails
I reinforce the frail, with lyrics that's real
Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats
I decifer prophecies through a mic and say peace.
I hung around the older crews while they sling smack to dingbats
They spoke of Fat Cat, that nigga's name made bell rings, black
Some fiends scream, about Supreme Team, a Jamaica Queens thing
Uptown was Alpo, son, heard he was kingpin, yo
Fuck 'rap is real', watch the herbs stand still
Never talkin to snakes cause the words of man kill
True in the game, as long as blood is blue in my veins
I pour my Heineken brew to my deceased crew on memory lane
Memory Lane - Nas