Hiphop Quotable of 1992?
Albums released in 1992:
Albums released in 1992:
Goat Verse of 1992?
- Thread starter Goldie
- Start date
King Poetic
Active Member
Both verses
Both verses
Both verses
Last edited:
King Poetic
Active Member
Verse 1
Looking at that list there was some serious heat released that year!!!
konceptjones
The one between three and three.
Rakim on "Punisher", 2nd verse
I hold the mic as hostage, emcees are ransom,
Rhymes'll punish 'em 'cause they don't undertsand 'em,
I heat up his brain, then explain then I hand him
A redhot microphone...that's how I planned 'em,
Rhymes call information(?), unite midnught(?),
Like a platoon putting bullet wounds in the mic,
If ya curse me, it ain't no mercy,
Give him a autopsy, killed by a verse of me,
I took a kid and cut off his eyelid,
Kill him slow so he could see what I did,
And if he don't understand what I said,
I'm pushing his eyeballs way to the back of his head
So he can see what he's getting into,
A part of the mind that he never been through,
A journey is coming 'cause ya getting sent to
A place harder to find but it's all in the mental,
I ran a brainscan to locate his game plan,
When I'm through with his brain he ain't the same, man!
Did he lose his mind or lost in his mind,
But this ain't the lost and found because ya can't find
Your foundation; coasting, your mind is
Drifting, in slow motion..frozen,
Looks like another murder at the Mardi Gras, be !
Too late to send out a search party,
Once ya out of ya head then ya can't get back,
I give 'em a map, but he still get trapped, so
Prepare the chamber, the torture's coming up,
Trip through the mind, at the end you'll find it's The Punisher
I hold the mic as hostage, emcees are ransom,
Rhymes'll punish 'em 'cause they don't undertsand 'em,
I heat up his brain, then explain then I hand him
A redhot microphone...that's how I planned 'em,
Rhymes call information(?), unite midnught(?),
Like a platoon putting bullet wounds in the mic,
If ya curse me, it ain't no mercy,
Give him a autopsy, killed by a verse of me,
I took a kid and cut off his eyelid,
Kill him slow so he could see what I did,
And if he don't understand what I said,
I'm pushing his eyeballs way to the back of his head
So he can see what he's getting into,
A part of the mind that he never been through,
A journey is coming 'cause ya getting sent to
A place harder to find but it's all in the mental,
I ran a brainscan to locate his game plan,
When I'm through with his brain he ain't the same, man!
Did he lose his mind or lost in his mind,
But this ain't the lost and found because ya can't find
Your foundation; coasting, your mind is
Drifting, in slow motion..frozen,
Looks like another murder at the Mardi Gras, be !
Too late to send out a search party,
Once ya out of ya head then ya can't get back,
I give 'em a map, but he still get trapped, so
Prepare the chamber, the torture's coming up,
Trip through the mind, at the end you'll find it's The Punisher
konceptjones
The one between three and three.
Rakim - Don't Sweat The Technique, 2nd verse
They wanna know how many rhymes have I ripped in rep
But researchers never found all the pieces yet
Scientists try to solve the context
Philosophers are wondering what's next
Pieces are took to last who observe 'em
They couldn't absorb 'em, they didn't deserve 'em
My ideas are only for the audience's ears
For my opponents, it might take years
Pencils and pens are swords
Letters put together form a key to chords
I'm also a sculpture born with structure
Because of my culture, I'm a rip and destruct the
Difficult styles that'll be for the technology
Complete sights and new heights after I get deep
You don't have to speak, just seek
And peep the technique
They wanna know how many rhymes have I ripped in rep
But researchers never found all the pieces yet
Scientists try to solve the context
Philosophers are wondering what's next
Pieces are took to last who observe 'em
They couldn't absorb 'em, they didn't deserve 'em
My ideas are only for the audience's ears
For my opponents, it might take years
Pencils and pens are swords
Letters put together form a key to chords
I'm also a sculpture born with structure
Because of my culture, I'm a rip and destruct the
Difficult styles that'll be for the technology
Complete sights and new heights after I get deep
You don't have to speak, just seek
And peep the technique
konceptjones
The one between three and three.
Redman on EPMD's "Headbanger"
The original P-Funk funks you up
I take a hit from a spliff then I get biz with the NEW CUT
Because I can Jam like Teddy if you let me
A good fella but still rugged like Joe PESCI
My style is mad funka-to-the-delic with the irrelevant
Shit that I kick backflip semi-full bitch (yeah)
Deduct and I dip then I SWITCH
To an incredible nigga with a *fuckin'* nine on the hip
I always got played by a honeyDIP
But now I'm on the money TIP so now I call the honeydip honey BITCH
And swing hardcore because that's where I come from (yeah)
I Rock ya like Chubb, and burn scrubs like a dum-dum
Remember Redman, last album I was Hardcore
Now I'm back to tear the frame out your assCRACK
'Cause I get wreck, with the tec, with the blunt or Moet
And what you see is what you get and what you're gettin' is your
ASS KICKED, nigga, hit you with the funkdafied figure
Like A plus funk, funk times stuffed in your back trunk PUNK
Yes the Redman that's what they call me
Wicked with the style you think I have cerebral palsy
Like AAIEEAHAAA, cause I freak the styles crazy
Lullaby your stupid ass, ROCKABYE BABY
The Funkadelic Devil hit your ass with a level from the new school
And still holdin' my jewels!
The original P-Funk funks you up
I take a hit from a spliff then I get biz with the NEW CUT
Because I can Jam like Teddy if you let me
A good fella but still rugged like Joe PESCI
My style is mad funka-to-the-delic with the irrelevant
Shit that I kick backflip semi-full bitch (yeah)
Deduct and I dip then I SWITCH
To an incredible nigga with a *fuckin'* nine on the hip
I always got played by a honeyDIP
But now I'm on the money TIP so now I call the honeydip honey BITCH
And swing hardcore because that's where I come from (yeah)
I Rock ya like Chubb, and burn scrubs like a dum-dum
Remember Redman, last album I was Hardcore
Now I'm back to tear the frame out your assCRACK
'Cause I get wreck, with the tec, with the blunt or Moet
And what you see is what you get and what you're gettin' is your
ASS KICKED, nigga, hit you with the funkdafied figure
Like A plus funk, funk times stuffed in your back trunk PUNK
Yes the Redman that's what they call me
Wicked with the style you think I have cerebral palsy
Like AAIEEAHAAA, cause I freak the styles crazy
Lullaby your stupid ass, ROCKABYE BABY
The Funkadelic Devil hit your ass with a level from the new school
And still holdin' my jewels!
King Poetic
Active Member
Verse 2 ( This was on the Zebrahead Soundtrack in 1992 before Illmatic in 1994)
konceptjones
The one between three and three.
Fat Lip on The Pharcyde's "Passin Me By"
Now there she goes again, the dopest Ethiopian
And now the world around me begins moving in slow motion when-
Ever she happens to walk by, why does the apple of my eye
Overlook and disregard my feelings no matter how much I try?
Wait, no, I did not really pursue my little princess with persistence
And I was so low-key that she was unaware of my existence
From a distance I desired her, secretly admired her
Wired her a letter to get her, and it went
"My dear, my dear, my dear, you do not know me, but I know you
Very well, now let me tell you 'bout the feelings I have for you
When I try or make some sort of attempt, I simp
Damn, I wish I wasn't such a wimp
'Cause then I would let you know that I love you so and if I was your man, then I would be true
The only lying I would do is in the bed with you"
Then I signed "Sincerely, the one who loves you dearly, P.S. Love Me Tender"
The letter came back three days later "Return to Sender", damn
Now there she goes again, the dopest Ethiopian
And now the world around me begins moving in slow motion when-
Ever she happens to walk by, why does the apple of my eye
Overlook and disregard my feelings no matter how much I try?
Wait, no, I did not really pursue my little princess with persistence
And I was so low-key that she was unaware of my existence
From a distance I desired her, secretly admired her
Wired her a letter to get her, and it went
"My dear, my dear, my dear, you do not know me, but I know you
Very well, now let me tell you 'bout the feelings I have for you
When I try or make some sort of attempt, I simp
Damn, I wish I wasn't such a wimp
'Cause then I would let you know that I love you so and if I was your man, then I would be true
The only lying I would do is in the bed with you"
Then I signed "Sincerely, the one who loves you dearly, P.S. Love Me Tender"
The letter came back three days later "Return to Sender", damn
konceptjones
The one between three and three.
I'm pretty sure Common had better verses on "Can I Borrow A Dollar", but I'm lazy and this sounded decent enough on a fresh listen
Common Sense, last verse on the Soul By The Pound Remix
Whoopee, look at me, I'm hipper than a hippie chick Flyer than the flu, so ill, the MC's say, "You make me sick!"
Well, go see the doctor — in your car, rock my tune
Wit the Boom shak lak lak boom
I'll fire on a cracker, bayow, watch where the sparks went
Fatter than Dre, a Lover like Ed, super as Clark Kent
So gimme the Lane, Lois as I change clothes without a booth
And light high ish like woof
The roof is on fire, it's not an L.A. riot
I got more ho, ho ho's than the Jolly Green Giant
Large as the Professor and I'm never faking funk, akh
Fat as heavy metal yet I'm harder than punk rock
So take me to a land I know not too far away
I got skills like Tim, and I'm coming in a Hardaway
So keep the crossover, Common is a b-boy
While you be dragging last, I be kicking like Bruce Leroy
Sho' nuff! Yo, I got the stuff that tops the stove
And I am about to explo-o-o-ode
Who was that masked kid? That's what'cha ask, kid
Petey Wheatstraw, Cutthroat, Lonnie or Rashid
But oh no, this was Common with his soul glow
Coming from Chica- but yo I gotta go-go
The go, check, check the go (ha-ha)
The go, check check the go (yeah)
Common Sense, last verse on the Soul By The Pound Remix
Whoopee, look at me, I'm hipper than a hippie chick Flyer than the flu, so ill, the MC's say, "You make me sick!"
Well, go see the doctor — in your car, rock my tune
Wit the Boom shak lak lak boom
I'll fire on a cracker, bayow, watch where the sparks went
Fatter than Dre, a Lover like Ed, super as Clark Kent
So gimme the Lane, Lois as I change clothes without a booth
And light high ish like woof
The roof is on fire, it's not an L.A. riot
I got more ho, ho ho's than the Jolly Green Giant
Large as the Professor and I'm never faking funk, akh
Fat as heavy metal yet I'm harder than punk rock
So take me to a land I know not too far away
I got skills like Tim, and I'm coming in a Hardaway
So keep the crossover, Common is a b-boy
While you be dragging last, I be kicking like Bruce Leroy
Sho' nuff! Yo, I got the stuff that tops the stove
And I am about to explo-o-o-ode
Who was that masked kid? That's what'cha ask, kid
Petey Wheatstraw, Cutthroat, Lonnie or Rashid
But oh no, this was Common with his soul glow
Coming from Chica- but yo I gotta go-go
The go, check, check the go (ha-ha)
The go, check check the go (yeah)
King Poetic
Active Member
Kurupt verse
konceptjones
The one between three and three.
2nd verse on Straighten It Out
The funk legacy I pass on, clearancy for high rates
Every time we sample all the past time greats
Stick it in the SP-1200 beat, I make a loop
Lovely, way to troop in a Lexus coupe
Just a little bit, set to make a whole lot happen
The musical inside my rappin'
Written by the C.L., produced by the P.R
And add in any credit that you heard thus far
I start from scratch, cuz the bassline's critical
Better than the original who first made it
Now you want to sue me, but fans never boo me
Believe I know the times, we been broke, too, G
Here's another sample clear, see ya, get the hell outta here
Like a bootleg, you're over for the year
You'll only get the credit where the credit is due
So, listen, what I shout out is true
The funk legacy I pass on, clearancy for high rates
Every time we sample all the past time greats
Stick it in the SP-1200 beat, I make a loop
Lovely, way to troop in a Lexus coupe
Just a little bit, set to make a whole lot happen
The musical inside my rappin'
Written by the C.L., produced by the P.R
And add in any credit that you heard thus far
I start from scratch, cuz the bassline's critical
Better than the original who first made it
Now you want to sue me, but fans never boo me
Believe I know the times, we been broke, too, G
Here's another sample clear, see ya, get the hell outta here
Like a bootleg, you're over for the year
You'll only get the credit where the credit is due
So, listen, what I shout out is true