mortuus est
Veteran
whos got deadly lines that make you go 
im feeling vince staples, bout to listen to Ka's new record
im feeling vince staples, bout to listen to Ka's new record
who got the best rhyme schemes in rap right now?
- Thread starter mortuus est
- Start date
the cac mamba
Veteran
so now we makin poor mans rhyme king threads 
those are awful enough as is
those are awful enough as is
Pinnacle HipHop
Rhyming is a (sm)artform
In my opinion, Crooked I takes the title
"Yo, this nikka never going broke again, picture me poor
I walk in the jewelry shop, draw glocks, empty the store
Crooked’s a man-eating lion please don’t tempt me to roar
Ghetto enough to put hydraulics on a Bentley Azure
Pimp me a whore, tough talk I simply ignore
Thousand dollar automatic weapons defend me in war
I rock a stalking cap in case,
I gotta pull it right over my well-known face and lay down the whole place
Its killer Cal styzz-al, where crimi-nals prowl
My residu-als pizz-ile, my lyri-cal style
Make them nikkas sound boot-G
It’s like you telling a statue to flinch, my nikka your words don’t move me
They make want to triple this gauge
And you suckers’ll be Gone in 60 Seconds, quicker than Nicholas Cage
You get no action, I beats mo’ ass than Joe Jackson
I tote magnums even if I go fo’ platinums
I blast that Enyce shirt, I’ll make your bytch drop her DK skirt
Cuz that’s how nikkas in southern CA work
I stay swift, walk with my chest out like an Ese on May fifth
I’ll tell you you ain’t shyt
Plus gangsta rap aint dead, it never died
It took steroids to the head and became Crooked I
On the “book placed by the Gideons”
We can feud like cowboys and Indians
Or Israelis and Palestinians
I didn’t wanna resort to this
But my cerebral cortex is a fortress where metaphors exist
Hit you with the force of Morpheus after I transform my fist
To a hammer too heavy for Thor to lift
Through a course of metamorphosis
The U-gang is more than sick
Sicker than newborn porn, swinging on some George Forman shyt
Warn your clique, I’m coming, nobody’s fukkin’ with Mr. I-con
A natural born time bomb
You know I gotta drop cowards with nine millimeters of glock power
Drop trousers, do your girl in a hot shower, for a hot hour
Drop her off at the Watts Towers, the block’s ours
You seeing me not now or never
I’ll never let these snake nikkas take me
I blow out brains to entertain me when I’m angry
I don’t tangle, I choke, strangle, break both ankles
Dangle you from a rope, clothes hang you from a cold angle
The Mangler so anxious to kill, able to spill
Ancient languages dangerous as 80 painkilling pills
Young jacker, Gucci hat tilted, gun clapper
I’m every artist Suge ever signed in one rapper
Chrome ending your life
I’m strong enough to stab you with the wrong end of a knife –
Gangsta type
And the lyrics that I quote, poke through my clothing
My father didn’t want me here but I broke through a Trojan…"
-Crooked I, Wake Up Show
"Yeah Me Not Writing A Album Every Seven Days
Is As Odd As You Meeting A Reverend That Never Prays
It's As Rare As Me Not Packing A Pistol In The Seventh Grade
It's Like Surviving A Shot From Every Weapon Ever Made
See I'm On An Everlasting Endeavor For Better Days
Got A Vendetta For Chedda I'm Rippin' Whatever Stage
And I'm Way More Than Some Metaphors And A Clever Phrase
Way More Than A Chain And Some Size Eleven J's
I'm A Pyromaniac Looking For Mics To Set A Blaze
I'm A Psycho Brainiac Focus My Brain Never Sways
And My Minds A Maze With A Hundred And Eighty Seven Ways
For Me To Get Out My Mind And Let That Beretta Raise
Or Pop The Shotgun Bet You Never Met A Guage
Leave You Deader Than Dead Stop Your Breath It Won't Let You Age
Disrespect Me Expect Me To Protect Me And Catch A Case
Adress Me As Leather Face Jesse Smith And Wesson James
Not To Spit In Heavens Face But I Live In This Hell This Place
Where People Are Rebellin' Sellin' Hatin' Expelling Grace
In The Ghetto A Piece Of Metal's In Every Felons Waist
The Devil's Peddling Wicked Thoughts At An Excelling Pace
Meddling In Affairs Offer Nectre You Never Taste
Fools And Jesters Fall Victim Hope You Rest In A Better Place
Maybe We Should All Pray Instead Of Measures Of Less Or Fake
See I've Been There Before Bad Weather The Pressure Makes
And As Strange As It Sound I Forever Will Treasure Snakes
Cause They Make Me Appreciate My Brethren Who Never Fake
Swear To God I'm Writing Albums Like Every Seven Days
With' No Effort Then I Crash 'Em Them Records I Never Played
But Today I'm Letting Letter's Connect To Digest A Page
My Collective Perspectives Are Effective When Expressing Rage
Respected I'm Expected To Select The Domestic Cage
In The Pen For Felonies They Said It Would Never Pay
And This Is What They Say Bout You Nigguhs Who Ghetto Raised
Let 'Em Face Hunger And Deadly Plagues No Question They Catching Strays
They Sex'n They Catchin AIDS A Wretched Phaze
Our Community's In It's Like We Gotta Be Edrain James
Just To Dodge Obsticals Kids Homeless They Never Ate
Living In Shelters Momma's Felt This Factions From Section Eight
And These Politicians Are bytches With shyt They Legislate
Convicted Felons Are Slaves So Prisons They'd Rather Make
Free Labor Is Paper For Corporations In Every State
So They Target Us Nigguhs Man I Carry This Heavy Weight
I Meditate Picture Myself In Front Of Heaven's Gates
Open My Eyes I'm Still In The Hood For Heaven's Sake"
-Crooked I, Can I talk to you
Reply
"Yo, this nikka never going broke again, picture me poor
I walk in the jewelry shop, draw glocks, empty the store
Crooked’s a man-eating lion please don’t tempt me to roar
Ghetto enough to put hydraulics on a Bentley Azure
Pimp me a whore, tough talk I simply ignore
Thousand dollar automatic weapons defend me in war
I rock a stalking cap in case,
I gotta pull it right over my well-known face and lay down the whole place
Its killer Cal styzz-al, where crimi-nals prowl
My residu-als pizz-ile, my lyri-cal style
Make them nikkas sound boot-G
It’s like you telling a statue to flinch, my nikka your words don’t move me
They make want to triple this gauge
And you suckers’ll be Gone in 60 Seconds, quicker than Nicholas Cage
You get no action, I beats mo’ ass than Joe Jackson
I tote magnums even if I go fo’ platinums
I blast that Enyce shirt, I’ll make your bytch drop her DK skirt
Cuz that’s how nikkas in southern CA work
I stay swift, walk with my chest out like an Ese on May fifth
I’ll tell you you ain’t shyt
Plus gangsta rap aint dead, it never died
It took steroids to the head and became Crooked I
On the “book placed by the Gideons”
We can feud like cowboys and Indians
Or Israelis and Palestinians
I didn’t wanna resort to this
But my cerebral cortex is a fortress where metaphors exist
Hit you with the force of Morpheus after I transform my fist
To a hammer too heavy for Thor to lift
Through a course of metamorphosis
The U-gang is more than sick
Sicker than newborn porn, swinging on some George Forman shyt
Warn your clique, I’m coming, nobody’s fukkin’ with Mr. I-con
A natural born time bomb
You know I gotta drop cowards with nine millimeters of glock power
Drop trousers, do your girl in a hot shower, for a hot hour
Drop her off at the Watts Towers, the block’s ours
You seeing me not now or never
I’ll never let these snake nikkas take me
I blow out brains to entertain me when I’m angry
I don’t tangle, I choke, strangle, break both ankles
Dangle you from a rope, clothes hang you from a cold angle
The Mangler so anxious to kill, able to spill
Ancient languages dangerous as 80 painkilling pills
Young jacker, Gucci hat tilted, gun clapper
I’m every artist Suge ever signed in one rapper
Chrome ending your life
I’m strong enough to stab you with the wrong end of a knife –
Gangsta type
And the lyrics that I quote, poke through my clothing
My father didn’t want me here but I broke through a Trojan…"
-Crooked I, Wake Up Show
"Yeah Me Not Writing A Album Every Seven Days
Is As Odd As You Meeting A Reverend That Never Prays
It's As Rare As Me Not Packing A Pistol In The Seventh Grade
It's Like Surviving A Shot From Every Weapon Ever Made
See I'm On An Everlasting Endeavor For Better Days
Got A Vendetta For Chedda I'm Rippin' Whatever Stage
And I'm Way More Than Some Metaphors And A Clever Phrase
Way More Than A Chain And Some Size Eleven J's
I'm A Pyromaniac Looking For Mics To Set A Blaze
I'm A Psycho Brainiac Focus My Brain Never Sways
And My Minds A Maze With A Hundred And Eighty Seven Ways
For Me To Get Out My Mind And Let That Beretta Raise
Or Pop The Shotgun Bet You Never Met A Guage
Leave You Deader Than Dead Stop Your Breath It Won't Let You Age
Disrespect Me Expect Me To Protect Me And Catch A Case
Adress Me As Leather Face Jesse Smith And Wesson James
Not To Spit In Heavens Face But I Live In This Hell This Place
Where People Are Rebellin' Sellin' Hatin' Expelling Grace
In The Ghetto A Piece Of Metal's In Every Felons Waist
The Devil's Peddling Wicked Thoughts At An Excelling Pace
Meddling In Affairs Offer Nectre You Never Taste
Fools And Jesters Fall Victim Hope You Rest In A Better Place
Maybe We Should All Pray Instead Of Measures Of Less Or Fake
See I've Been There Before Bad Weather The Pressure Makes
And As Strange As It Sound I Forever Will Treasure Snakes
Cause They Make Me Appreciate My Brethren Who Never Fake
Swear To God I'm Writing Albums Like Every Seven Days
With' No Effort Then I Crash 'Em Them Records I Never Played
But Today I'm Letting Letter's Connect To Digest A Page
My Collective Perspectives Are Effective When Expressing Rage
Respected I'm Expected To Select The Domestic Cage
In The Pen For Felonies They Said It Would Never Pay
And This Is What They Say Bout You Nigguhs Who Ghetto Raised
Let 'Em Face Hunger And Deadly Plagues No Question They Catching Strays
They Sex'n They Catchin AIDS A Wretched Phaze
Our Community's In It's Like We Gotta Be Edrain James
Just To Dodge Obsticals Kids Homeless They Never Ate
Living In Shelters Momma's Felt This Factions From Section Eight
And These Politicians Are bytches With shyt They Legislate
Convicted Felons Are Slaves So Prisons They'd Rather Make
Free Labor Is Paper For Corporations In Every State
So They Target Us Nigguhs Man I Carry This Heavy Weight
I Meditate Picture Myself In Front Of Heaven's Gates
Open My Eyes I'm Still In The Hood For Heaven's Sake"
-Crooked I, Can I talk to you
Reply
JayYoung314
St. Louis Survivor
k dot
