DUBCC - Tha Connection > Outbound Connection
Rap's Current Beef's...
white Boy:
--- Quote from: Dosia on November 23, 2004, 08:42:27 PM ---
--- Quote from: Jome on November 23, 2004, 08:40:33 PM ---Current.... ??? lol
--- End quote ---
what i was thinking
--- End quote ---
Shallow:
--- Quote from: smartass on November 24, 2004, 11:51:07 AM ---
_______________________________________________
prodigy:Rikers Island flashback of the house you got scuffed it in
you would think you gettin your head shot was enough but then
Now you wanna got at my team,
you must of been drunk when you wrote that shit
too bad you had to did it to your own self
my rebellion, I retaliate, I had the whole New York state
aimin at your face
at the gate, bottom line of top soon as you came through
shot through, don't even know the half of my crew
I got a hundred strong arm niggas ready to rock the shit
clocks tick, your days are numbered in low digits
you look suspicious, suspect niggas is bitches
get chppoed up, Grade A meat, somethin delicious
and laced back up, 2 G's, one for stitches
then reconstruct your face and learn how to speak again
my Mobb's like a bunch of wild Puerto Ricans
wit bangers the size of African spears
it's warfare in the arena, you turn arenas into house of horrors
its terrodome, when you see my click you need to run behind shit
you gotta gat you betta find it
and use that shit think fast and get reminded
of robberies in Manhattan you knew what happened
60 g's and one for gun clappin
Who Shot Ya? You'd probably scream louder than an opera
New York gotcha, now you wanna use my mob as a crutch
what makes you think you cant get bucked again
________________________________________________
prodigy:Swollen bullet wounds, head ass niggas
Yo,
Who's the one to be made into example
Nigga you pop shit wit the wrong guys this time
What! (gunshots)
My mobb'll get on top ya, topple ya
Like a fall guy you fell down clown
Heard some four pound sound my '86 style now (gunshot)
Ten years later still hold a firm ground
Nigga P thugly
Enter the ring wit something for anyone who wanna play gun
What up G?
I'll clap you stop in your tracks, how about that?
Now analyze these cats wit live nigga rap
You seen strapped, came outside all hype wit gats
Got juiced up, now bishop think he thuggin it black pimp
Let's rap a taste
You get your little head pinched off
Brooklyn touched you, then left you for Queens to finish off
prodigy ripped that nigga, hows that NOT BEEF?
--- End quote ---
I hope this isn't your idea of good lyrics. This is my idea of good lyrics;
___________________________________________________________________
The rangers had a homecoming in Harlem late last night
And the Magic Rat drove his sleek machine over the Jersey state line
Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge
Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain
The Rat pulls into town rolls up his pants
Together they take a stab at romance and disappear down Flamingo Lane
Well the Maximum Lawman run down Flamingo chasing the Rat and the barefoot girl
And the kids round here look just like shadows always quiet, holding hands
From the churches to the jails tonight all is silence in the world
As we take our stand down in Jungleland
The midnight gang's assembled and picked a rendezvous for the night
They'll meet 'neath that giant Exxon sign that brings this fair city light
Man there's an opera out on the Turnpike
There's a ballet being fought out in the alley
Until the local cops, Cherry Tops, rips this holy night
The street's alive as secret debts are paid
Contacts made, they vanished unseen
Kids flash guitars just like switch-blades hustling for the record machine
The hungry and the hunted explode into rock'n'roll bands
That face off against each other out in the street down in Jungleland
In the parking lot the visionaries dress in the latest rage
Inside the backstreet girls are dancing to the records that the D.J. plays
Lonely-hearted lovers struggle in dark corners
Desperate as the night moves on, just a look and a whisper, and they're gone
Beneath the city two hearts beat
Soul engines running through a night so tender in a bedroom locked
In whispers of soft refusal and then surrender in the tunnels uptown
The Rat's own dream guns him down as shots echo down them hallways in the night
No one watches when the ambulance pulls away
Or as the girl shuts out the bedroom light
Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz
Between flesh and what's fantasy and the poets down here
Don't write nothing at all, they just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night they reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand but they wind up wounded, not even dead
Tonight in Jungleland
______________________________________________________________________________
Now that's beautiful.
smartass:
--- Quote from: Shallow on November 24, 2004, 12:53:36 PM ---
--- Quote from: smartass on November 24, 2004, 11:51:07 AM ---
_______________________________________________
prodigy:Rikers Island flashback of the house you got scuffed it in
you would think you gettin your head shot was enough but then
Now you wanna got at my team,
you must of been drunk when you wrote that shit
too bad you had to did it to your own self
my rebellion, I retaliate, I had the whole New York state
aimin at your face
at the gate, bottom line of top soon as you came through
shot through, don't even know the half of my crew
I got a hundred strong arm niggas ready to rock the shit
clocks tick, your days are numbered in low digits
you look suspicious, suspect niggas is bitches
get chppoed up, Grade A meat, somethin delicious
and laced back up, 2 G's, one for stitches
then reconstruct your face and learn how to speak again
my Mobb's like a bunch of wild Puerto Ricans
wit bangers the size of African spears
it's warfare in the arena, you turn arenas into house of horrors
its terrodome, when you see my click you need to run behind shit
you gotta gat you betta find it
and use that shit think fast and get reminded
of robberies in Manhattan you knew what happened
60 g's and one for gun clappin
Who Shot Ya? You'd probably scream louder than an opera
New York gotcha, now you wanna use my mob as a crutch
what makes you think you cant get bucked again
________________________________________________
prodigy:Swollen bullet wounds, head ass niggas
Yo,
Who's the one to be made into example
Nigga you pop shit wit the wrong guys this time
What! (gunshots)
My mobb'll get on top ya, topple ya
Like a fall guy you fell down clown
Heard some four pound sound my '86 style now (gunshot)
Ten years later still hold a firm ground
Nigga P thugly
Enter the ring wit something for anyone who wanna play gun
What up G?
I'll clap you stop in your tracks, how about that?
Now analyze these cats wit live nigga rap
You seen strapped, came outside all hype wit gats
Got juiced up, now bishop think he thuggin it black pimp
Let's rap a taste
You get your little head pinched off
Brooklyn touched you, then left you for Queens to finish off
prodigy ripped that nigga, hows that NOT BEEF?
--- End quote ---
I hope this isn't your idea of good lyrics. This is my idea of good lyrics;
___________________________________________________________________
The rangers had a homecoming in Harlem late last night
And the Magic Rat drove his sleek machine over the Jersey state line
Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge
Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain
The Rat pulls into town rolls up his pants
Together they take a stab at romance and disappear down Flamingo Lane
Well the Maximum Lawman run down Flamingo chasing the Rat and the barefoot girl
And the kids round here look just like shadows always quiet, holding hands
From the churches to the jails tonight all is silence in the world
As we take our stand down in Jungleland
The midnight gang's assembled and picked a rendezvous for the night
They'll meet 'neath that giant Exxon sign that brings this fair city light
Man there's an opera out on the Turnpike
There's a ballet being fought out in the alley
Until the local cops, Cherry Tops, rips this holy night
The street's alive as secret debts are paid
Contacts made, they vanished unseen
Kids flash guitars just like switch-blades hustling for the record machine
The hungry and the hunted explode into rock'n'roll bands
That face off against each other out in the street down in Jungleland
In the parking lot the visionaries dress in the latest rage
Inside the backstreet girls are dancing to the records that the D.J. plays
Lonely-hearted lovers struggle in dark corners
Desperate as the night moves on, just a look and a whisper, and they're gone
Beneath the city two hearts beat
Soul engines running through a night so tender in a bedroom locked
In whispers of soft refusal and then surrender in the tunnels uptown
The Rat's own dream guns him down as shots echo down them hallways in the night
No one watches when the ambulance pulls away
Or as the girl shuts out the bedroom light
Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz
Between flesh and what's fantasy and the poets down here
Don't write nothing at all, they just stand back and let it all be
And in the quick of the night they reach for their moment
And try to make an honest stand but they wind up wounded, not even dead
Tonight in Jungleland
______________________________________________________________________________
Now that's beautiful.
--- End quote ---
wtf? are diss songs supposed to have emotional lyrics now too? cause i could've sworn this thread was about beef.
Shallow:
I wasn't asking a rhetorical question. I was simply wondering what your idea of a good lyric was, and posted what I thought good lyrics were. Even though it seemed that way, no offense intended. I wasn't trying to show you up.
M Dogg™:
--- Quote from: smartass on November 24, 2004, 11:51:07 AM ---LOL @ there being no beef between 2pac and mobb
2pac:Oh yah Mobb Deep (uhh)
You wanna f**k with us
You Little young a*s mutha-f**kas
Don't one of you ni**as got sickle-cell or something
You f**king with me, ni**a ?
You f**k around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the f**k up
Before you get smacked the f**k up
_________________________________________
fatal:Havoc I gotta have it steady blastin at Prodigy
Mobb 6 feet deep you try to blast me till death
And I suppose you got the dopest moves like Chucky on fresh
__________________________________________________
2pac:I murder you then I, run a train on Mobb Deep! Don't f**k with
me
Nigga you're barely livin, don't you got sickle cell?
See me have a seizure on stage, you ain't feelin well, hell
How many niggaz wanna be involved?
See I was only talkin to Biggie, but I'll kill allay'all
__________________________________________________
2pac:I'm a Bad Boy killa, Jay-Z die too
Lookin out for Mobb Deep, nigga when I find you
Weak motherfuckers don't deserve to breathe
___________________________________________________
havoc:
you casper, you yell my name
thats only givin me props
plus the fans that you got, wonderin whats got you hot
its too not, knocked out the box and got rocked
got raped on the Island, you officially got
kick that thug shit, Vibe magazine on some love shit
(keep it real kid, you don't know who you fuckin wit)
_______________________________________________
prodigy:Rikers Island flashback of the house you got scuffed it in
you would think you gettin your head shot was enough but then
Now you wanna got at my team,
you must of been drunk when you wrote that shit
too bad you had to did it to your own self
my rebellion, I retaliate, I had the whole New York state
aimin at your face
at the gate, bottom line of top soon as you came through
shot through, don't even know the half of my crew
I got a hundred strong arm niggas ready to rock the shit
clocks tick, your days are numbered in low digits
you look suspicious, suspect niggas is bitches
get chppoed up, Grade A meat, somethin delicious
and laced back up, 2 G's, one for stitches
then reconstruct your face and learn how to speak again
my Mobb's like a bunch of wild Puerto Ricans
wit bangers the size of African spears
it's warfare in the arena, you turn arenas into house of horrors
its terrodome, when you see my click you need to run behind shit
you gotta gat you betta find it
and use that shit think fast and get reminded
of robberies in Manhattan you knew what happened
60 g's and one for gun clappin
Who Shot Ya? You'd probably scream louder than an opera
New York gotcha, now you wanna use my mob as a crutch
what makes you think you cant get bucked again
________________________________________________
prodigy:Swollen bullet wounds, head ass niggas
Yo,
Who's the one to be made into example
Nigga you pop shit wit the wrong guys this time
What! (gunshots)
My mobb'll get on top ya, topple ya
Like a fall guy you fell down clown
Heard some four pound sound my '86 style now (gunshot)
Ten years later still hold a firm ground
Nigga P thugly
Enter the ring wit something for anyone who wanna play gun
What up G?
I'll clap you stop in your tracks, how about that?
Now analyze these cats wit live nigga rap
You seen strapped, came outside all hype wit gats
Got juiced up, now bishop think he thuggin it black pimp
Let's rap a taste
You get your little head pinched off
Brooklyn touched you, then left you for Queens to finish off
prodigy ripped that nigga, hows that NOT BEEF?
--- End quote ---
'Pac barely dissed them. Compare that diss to the disses at Biggie. It seem like 'Pac was thinking of Mobb Deep as small change. Mobb Deep though has been dissing 'Pac since he dies. Still dissing 'Pac. Shit. Now tell me, in the end, was that beef? It might have been, but it wasn't fair beef. I'll release Drop A Gem On Em in 1997, a year after 'Pac's death. Fuck that.
Navigation
[0] Message Index
[#] Next page
[*] Previous page
Go to full version