Singles [Throwback] Diamond D Ft Big L, A.G., Lord Finesse & Fat Joe - 5 Fingas Of Death

[IronFist]

​

 

[Burger King]

classic DITC

 

[Mr. Negative]

Big L.

 

[Mr. Negative]

And I'ma say this here.

I HATE the sound of MCs punching.


*note for those not in the know (like folks is gonna be in this thread anyway) punching is when an MC records his bars, then stops and writes more shyt, then starts rapping again. The delay is audible due to vocal overlap on tracks.

 

[SoulController]

Kid Capri did an amazing Showbiz impersination on the beat, always loved this one

 

[patscorpio]

[Big L]
I stay jeweled up, pockets swelled up from banks I held up
Plenty bytch-ass nikkas Big L stuck
I never catch cold feet when I hold heat
We roll deep in a triple black dark tinted old jeep
I catch a faq three o'clock in the morn
On the block all alone and put a Glock to his dome
Tell him, "Give it up quick, you nitwit, don't try to get slick
Or I'm a let this four-fifth spit and leave your shyt split"
Grip, it ain't nothing decent about me
A true thug for real, you can ask the precinct about me
A rap junkie, don't try to play me like some flunky
Jewels be chunky, pockets lumpy, attitude grumpy
Mad nikkas be fronting a lot
Popping mad shyt, tryna be something they not
Your fakkit ass better stick to dancing, don't even look at me
I might break your jaw just for glancing, that's right
In '97 Harlem kids is blowing
And we don't trick, we'll let a bytch starve till her ribs are showing


[Lord Finesse]
Heated divine mastermind that turn nickels to dimes
The authentic genuine that's out to shine
The cool cat, the true mack, the smooth raps
Chickens be like, "Who that?" I be doing my thing, kid (True dat)
Forget fronting, I'm beyond that, I roll with brothers ready for combat
All for eye-to-eye contact
With skills, G, yo it's ill see, for real B
Ain't no barbecue, nikkas better stop tryna grill me
Huh, sent that style to the essence
Got nikkas stressing my style, pull like fluorescents
No question, tough type to clutch mics
The positive upright, I'm the "I don't give a fukk" type
Expose the facts, you know the haps
Could go to laugh astrological, like the signs in the Zodiac
Your rap crew out the stack loop, word up
My style's tighter than a fat bytch in a cat suit
Suprise G, it's not wise see to size me
When I operate, it's Smooth Sailing like Ron Isley
Gotta do my thing, word up (Beg ya pardon?)
Time to bounce, gotta skate like Tonya Harding

no one did this style of rhyming better than these 2

 

[The Ruler 09]

Classic, possibly my favourite record they did, raw.

 

[Burger King]

[Big L]
I stay jeweled up, pockets swelled up from banks I held up
Plenty bytch-ass nikkas Big L stuck
I never catch cold feet when I hold heat
We roll deep in a triple black dark tinted old jeep
I catch a faq three o'clock in the morn
On the block all alone and put a Glock to his dome
Tell him, "Give it up quick, you nitwit, don't try to get slick
Or I'm a let this four-fifth spit and leave your shyt split"
Grip, it ain't nothing decent about me
A true thug for real, you can ask the precinct about me
A rap junkie, don't try to play me like some flunky
Jewels be chunky, pockets lumpy, attitude grumpy
Mad nikkas be fronting a lot
Popping mad shyt, tryna be something they not
Your fakkit ass better stick to dancing, don't even look at me
I might break your jaw just for glancing, that's right
In '97 Harlem kids is blowing
And we don't trick, we'll let a bytch starve till her ribs are showing


[Lord Finesse]
Heated divine mastermind that turn nickels to dimes
The authentic genuine that's out to shine
The cool cat, the true mack, the smooth raps
Chickens be like, "Who that?" I be doing my thing, kid (True dat)
Forget fronting, I'm beyond that, I roll with brothers ready for combat
All for eye-to-eye contact
With skills, G, yo it's ill see, for real B
Ain't no barbecue, nikkas better stop tryna grill me
Huh, sent that style to the essence
Got nikkas stressing my style, pull like fluorescents
No question, tough type to clutch mics
The positive upright, I'm the "I don't give a fukk" type
Expose the facts, you know the haps
Could go to laugh astrological, like the signs in the Zodiac
Your rap crew out the stack loop, word up
My style's tighter than a fat bytch in a cat suit
Suprise G, it's not wise see to size me
When I operate, it's Smooth Sailing like Ron Isley
Gotta do my thing, word up (Beg ya pardon?)
Time to bounce, gotta skate like Tonya Harding

no one did this style of rhyming better than these 2

no doubt, they pull it off so effortlessly

 

[LevelUp]

Rest in peace Big L

 

[KingsOfKings]

Classic