Give me an example of why G rap is so highly rated
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Dafunkdoc_Unlimited
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This is just a personal favorite, but the flow on this track........
THIS is what I mean by 'riding a beat'.
THIS is what I mean by 'riding a beat'.
Dafunkdoc_Unlimited
Theological Noncognitivist Since Birth
- Joined
- Jul 25, 2012
- Messages
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- Reputation
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- Daps
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- Reppin
- The Wrong Side of the Tracks
So many quotables in this joint..............
When you piss you'll see more stars than an astrologist.
Only thing missin' on my dikk is a cape.
Bus' a nut and get up and wipe my dikk on your curtains.
When you piss you'll see more stars than an astrologist.
Only thing missin' on my dikk is a cape.
Bus' a nut and get up and wipe my dikk on your curtains.
So many quotables in this joint..............
When you piss you'll see more stars than an astrologist.
Only thing missin' on my dikk is a cape.
Bus' a nut and get up and wipe my dikk on your curtains.
"grab the headboard and hold onto it........
or get sent right through it"
but seriously though ,
sometimes a nikka sound like Sylvester the cat tryin' to spit.
Bumrush Bros.
THERES ONLY ENOUGH ROOM FOR 1 LIL MAMA STAN HERE
bodied nas
DaveyDave
Superstar
when they were recording, G Rap got in the booth and kept rhyming until the fukking TAPE RAN OFF THE REEL they had to cut his verse so everyone else could be on the song
Brand New Heavies f. Kool G Rap - Death Threat
"...Sending bodies to the morgue for a freezing
I got the motherfu*king finger on the trigger cause it's ni*ga season
A punk tried to drop me
I left the body sloppy so they can't perform an autopsy
Dig a hole for the bi*ch
And put all his pieces and bits inside a ditch
Yo, you don't think you're going under
I got a bullet with your name, your address, and your phone number
So if you want to play games
I'm blowing you the fu*k out the frame
You tried to front and got murdered last night
So now you float to the motherfu*king light
So I'm a step to your grave and make a toast
And start shooting at your motherfu*king ghost
So may the Lord be with ya
Cause I ain't no saint and I don't paint in pretty pictures
It ain't nothing but bloodshed
Stains of brains on the rug and less blood in your head
You want to make me upset?
Huh, then I'm a promise you a motherfu*king death threat..."
Fat Joe f. Kool G Rap - Yuo Must Be Out Of Your Fuc*ing Mind
"...Chitty chitty bang bang, I'm coming like a chain gang
From outta Sang Sang to make your motherfu*king brains hang
Try to diss this, then you'll enlist for the stiffs
Snatch your bi*ch up at Crystal and then I fu*k her with a pistol
A nig*a with heart, walk through a park in the dark
Fu*k the drug marks stomping me, I'll play your fuc*ing heart, so be smart
Cut all that bullsh*t and clown,
Or be the only nikka laying down
While everybody else is sitting
So who's the next man to hit? I slip in a banana clip
And I hit, come and get your bandana split
Sh*t, fu*k, bi*ch who's the snitch?
You may be down with Mikey and Ikey, but you're laying in a fu*king ditch
With motherfu*king maggots with the rest of them faq*ots
Cause your license to kill was from Tagget's
I warned a brother of another brother's glock
And I said "What's up, doc?" And I had my motherfu*king gun cocked
So be a sport, another lesson drug
Holding down the fort and a stupid-ass nig*a got caught
So he made prime time cause I had the nine
Yeah, you must be out of your FUC*ING mind!
Yep, guess that about explains it.........
"...Sending bodies to the morgue for a freezing
I got the motherfu*king finger on the trigger cause it's ni*ga season
A punk tried to drop me
I left the body sloppy so they can't perform an autopsy
Dig a hole for the bi*ch
And put all his pieces and bits inside a ditch
Yo, you don't think you're going under
I got a bullet with your name, your address, and your phone number
So if you want to play games
I'm blowing you the fu*k out the frame
You tried to front and got murdered last night
So now you float to the motherfu*king light
So I'm a step to your grave and make a toast
And start shooting at your motherfu*king ghost
So may the Lord be with ya
Cause I ain't no saint and I don't paint in pretty pictures
It ain't nothing but bloodshed
Stains of brains on the rug and less blood in your head
You want to make me upset?
Huh, then I'm a promise you a motherfu*king death threat..."
Fat Joe f. Kool G Rap - Yuo Must Be Out Of Your Fuc*ing Mind
"...Chitty chitty bang bang, I'm coming like a chain gang
From outta Sang Sang to make your motherfu*king brains hang
Try to diss this, then you'll enlist for the stiffs
Snatch your bi*ch up at Crystal and then I fu*k her with a pistol
A nig*a with heart, walk through a park in the dark
Fu*k the drug marks stomping me, I'll play your fuc*ing heart, so be smart
Cut all that bullsh*t and clown,
Or be the only nikka laying down
While everybody else is sitting
So who's the next man to hit? I slip in a banana clip
And I hit, come and get your bandana split
Sh*t, fu*k, bi*ch who's the snitch?
You may be down with Mikey and Ikey, but you're laying in a fu*king ditch
With motherfu*king maggots with the rest of them faq*ots
Cause your license to kill was from Tagget's
I warned a brother of another brother's glock
And I said "What's up, doc?" And I had my motherfu*king gun cocked
So be a sport, another lesson drug
Holding down the fort and a stupid-ass nig*a got caught
So he made prime time cause I had the nine
Yeah, you must be out of your FUC*ING mind!
Yep, guess that about explains it.........
Long Live The Kane
Tyrant Titan
Infamous, 4,5,6 with Fast Life, and OB4CL came out around the same time. Do I think they gave him the name? Yeah. Do I think his rapping style sounded like Rae or Ghost or aimed to mimic OB4Cl?
Yeah the mafiaso sh!t was moreso just a superficial trend that was popping in contemporary NYC rap at the time...wasn't really talking about that...I'm talking about Esco-era Nas' actual rhyme style...the flow he used to completely outshine and murder Ghost and and Rae on they on their sh!t with...the flow that was used on much of IWW and all his guest verses and sh!t up through out those years...sh!t is heavily influenced by G Rap...that multi-heavy slick flow sh!t that you can hear in dudes like Pun a few years later
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roots of evil IMO is the best G rap album to me..the production, the rhymes, songs, guest appearances...were all on point...there is one song i play more than others....foul cats..just a raw ass song
It was a setup, my nikka got hit, they blew his chest up
The hollow tips ripped his vest up, son is messed up
And blessed up; call my cast up -- it's time to dress up
Four-fifth and Smith-n-Wessed up, ready to press up
And fukk their nest up, the enemy is Hennessey to sessed up
Actin up, hit my motherfukkin man up
Never again will he stand up, yo Big Jan hook the plan up
Pull the masks, pull the van up
These nikkas tryin to hit the fam up; these small times cats
Yo fukk that, I can't see that, where them nikkas be at?
Where they hang at? Where they live at? Where they slang at?
(Aiyyo Son one is a known cat, he walk around with the chrome gat
This hoodrat know where the nikka home at)
Well here's a quarter baby, go and phone that
This motherfukker bout to get his shyt blown back
His whole dome clapped, we cock back the gats and started cruisin
Up the boulevards and avenues-n, I'm short fusin
And two biscuit usin; mad hot but, not in the mood for losin
We hit the strip pickin up clues and
We on the heels of this nikka shoes and
Out the blue when, we see the chick the nikka screwin
Pushin his whip with the ice cuban
Hemmed her up sweet, put heat to her wig piece, the zig piece
To this nig's beefs, this bytch named Charise
From East New York, listen bytch, you better talk
Or get your whole frame surrounded, with white chalk
Pulled the rat in back of the van, bytch we don't want you
We want your man, you understand?
The ho said, "Please, I got his house keys, the nikka got
Five keys and mad cheese, a hundred G's"
Lie to me bytch you gettin one of these
Four-five C's in both knees, she said, "Honestly I promise G
I'm not lying," then the ho started crying
We hit the road me and my nikkas flying
To the crib in Jackson Heights, the nikka live three flights up
He type buck, but I ain't givin a fukk
Grab his bytch up, make the ho go first in case
The nikka buck, open the door up, and put the stunt in front
Then we all started creepin, he stretched out
Up on the sofa sleepin, yeah me and my cats standin there
Just peepin, money's about to get laced
My nikka Ty threw a glass of whiskey in his face
Big Jan ready to blaze the place; he on his way
To Amazing Grace -- nikka woke up and saw the big guns
Me and my two sons, he knew he was done
You hurt a loved one, step back about to let him have one
Yo fukk that, aiyyo black, where the sack of heroin at?
I'm bout to give cat some motherfukkin railroad tracks
We dumped the whole bag inside a spoon and left the room
To heat that, and came right back, yo grab the nikka arm black
Put raw shyt in the nikka vein, watch the needle drain
Went from being restrained to mad 'tran
Less than a moment nikka started zonin
His mouth foamin, lookin like he posessed by The Omen
His bytch was reachin for the phone and, I had to smack her
With the chrome and, left her on the floor moanin
Cocked back, I had to finish this, know my stee'
We leave no witnesses, shot and got the fukk out the premises
It was a setup, my nikka got hit, they blew his chest up
The hollow tips ripped his vest up, son is messed up
And blessed up; call my cast up -- it's time to dress up
Four-fifth and Smith-n-Wessed up, ready to press up
And fukk their nest up, the enemy is Hennessey to sessed up
Actin up, hit my motherfukkin man up
Never again will he stand up, yo Big Jan hook the plan up
Pull the masks, pull the van up
These nikkas tryin to hit the fam up; these small times cats
Yo fukk that, I can't see that, where them nikkas be at?
Where they hang at? Where they live at? Where they slang at?
(Aiyyo Son one is a known cat, he walk around with the chrome gat
This hoodrat know where the nikka home at)
Well here's a quarter baby, go and phone that
This motherfukker bout to get his shyt blown back
His whole dome clapped, we cock back the gats and started cruisin
Up the boulevards and avenues-n, I'm short fusin
And two biscuit usin; mad hot but, not in the mood for losin
We hit the strip pickin up clues and
We on the heels of this nikka shoes and
Out the blue when, we see the chick the nikka screwin
Pushin his whip with the ice cuban
Hemmed her up sweet, put heat to her wig piece, the zig piece
To this nig's beefs, this bytch named Charise
From East New York, listen bytch, you better talk
Or get your whole frame surrounded, with white chalk
Pulled the rat in back of the van, bytch we don't want you
We want your man, you understand?
The ho said, "Please, I got his house keys, the nikka got
Five keys and mad cheese, a hundred G's"
Lie to me bytch you gettin one of these
Four-five C's in both knees, she said, "Honestly I promise G
I'm not lying," then the ho started crying
We hit the road me and my nikkas flying
To the crib in Jackson Heights, the nikka live three flights up
He type buck, but I ain't givin a fukk
Grab his bytch up, make the ho go first in case
The nikka buck, open the door up, and put the stunt in front
Then we all started creepin, he stretched out
Up on the sofa sleepin, yeah me and my cats standin there
Just peepin, money's about to get laced
My nikka Ty threw a glass of whiskey in his face
Big Jan ready to blaze the place; he on his way
To Amazing Grace -- nikka woke up and saw the big guns
Me and my two sons, he knew he was done
You hurt a loved one, step back about to let him have one
Yo fukk that, aiyyo black, where the sack of heroin at?
I'm bout to give cat some motherfukkin railroad tracks
We dumped the whole bag inside a spoon and left the room
To heat that, and came right back, yo grab the nikka arm black
Put raw shyt in the nikka vein, watch the needle drain
Went from being restrained to mad 'tran
Less than a moment nikka started zonin
His mouth foamin, lookin like he posessed by The Omen
His bytch was reachin for the phone and, I had to smack her
With the chrome and, left her on the floor moanin
Cocked back, I had to finish this, know my stee'
We leave no witnesses, shot and got the fukk out the premises
LeflaurLeflahEshkoshka
All Star
4,5,6 and his work with DJ Polo are a must listen. Actually all his shyt is, especially if you're a fan of NY/East Coast rap, 90's type of music.
Im a 90s baby but damn you just gotta love all the shyt that came out then. AZ and Kool G Rap's flow
Im a 90s baby but damn you just gotta love all the shyt that came out then. AZ and Kool G Rap's flow
