The Best Rap Verses of All Time as Ranked by Fans - Beats, Rhymes and Lists (2024)

Yo, this ain’t just a list, it’s a lyrical battlefield. We’re ’bout to rank the top 100 verses that changed the rap game forever! The word architects, the poets of the streets, the MCs who dropped the realest bars in hip hop history.

We’re talkin’ classics and modern bangers, from Nas paintin’ pictures of NYC in “N.Y. State of Mind,” to B.I.G. commandin’ the mic on “Victory.” Feel the weight of Andre 3000’s words on “Elevators,” and the raw truth in AZ’s “Life’s a B*tch.” Check Jay-Z stuntin’ on “Dead Presidents,” and the legend Rakim reppin’ on “My Melody.” From Lil Wayne’s wild wordplay on “We Takin’ Over” to Eminem’s fire on “Lose Yourself,” yo, this list is straight heat.

All the way through to Slick Rick’s classic stories, Nas and Raekwon spittin’ gems, and don’t forget Inspectah Deck kicking off Wu-Tang’s “Triumph” with a bang. This countdown is where hip hop legends live, here are the 100 best rap verses of all time.

Released: February 11, 1997

Album:Wu-Tang Forever

I bomb atomically, Socrates’ philosophies and hypothesesCan’t define how I be dropping these mockeriesLyrically perform armed robberyFlee with the lottery, possibly they spotted meBattle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits tremendousUltraviolet shine blind forensicsI inspect you through the future see millenniumKilla Beez sold fifty gold, sixty platinumShackling the masses with drastic rap tacticsGraphic displays melt the steel like blacksmithsBlack Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns inRumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the functionHeads by the score take flight, incite a warChicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand moreBehold the bold soldier, control the globe slowlyProceeds to blow, swinging swords like ShinobiStomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rockWu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block

Released: August 1, 1995

Album:Only Built 4 Cuban Linx…

Through the lights, cameras, and action, glamor, glitters, and goldI unfold the scroll, plant seeds to stampede the globeWhen I’m deceased, by then the beast arise like yeastTo conquer peace, leaving savages to roam in the streetsLive on the run, police paying me to give in my gunTrick my wisdom with the system that imprisoned my sonSmoke a gold leaf, I hold heat nonchalantlyI’m raunchy, but things I do is real, it never haunts me, whileFunny style ni**as roll in the pileRooster-heads profile on the bus to Rikers IsleHolding weed inside they puss* with they minds on the pretty things in lifeProps is a true thug’s wifeIt’s like a cycle, ni**as come home, some’ll go inDo a bullet, come back, do the same sh*t againFrom the womb to the tomb, presume the unpredictableGuns salute life rapidly, that’s the ritual

Released: August 13, 1985

Album: N/A

La-di-da-di, we like to partyWe don’t cause trouble, we don’t bother nobody, we’reJust some men that’s on the micAnd when we rock up on the mic we rock the mic (Right)For all of y’all keeping y’all in healthJust to see you smile and enjoy yourself‘Cause it’s cool when you ’cause a cozy conditionThat we create, ’cause that’s our missionSo listen to what we sayBecause this type of sh*t, it happens every dayI woke up around ten o’clock in the morningI gave myself a stretch up, a morning yawningWent to the bathroom to wash upHad some soap on my face and my hand upon a cupI said, “Um, mirror, mirror on the wallWho is the top choice of them all?”There was a rumble jumble, five minutes it lastedThe mirror said, “You are, you conceited bastard!”But that’s true, that’s why we never have no beefSo then I washed off the soap and brushed the gold teethUsed Oil Of Olay ’cause my skin gets paleAnd then I got the files for my fingernailsDue to the night and on my behalfI put the bubbles in the tub so I could have a bubble bathClean, dry was my body and hairI threw on my brand new Gucci underwearFor all the girls I might take homeI got the Johnson’s Baby Powder and the Polo cologneFresh dressed like a million bucksThrew on the Bally shoes and the fly green socksStepped out my house stopped short, oh noI went back in, I forgot my KangolAnd then I dilly (dally), I ran though a (alley)I bumped into my old girl (Sally) from the (valley)This is a girl plays hard to get so I said“What’s wrong?” ’cause she looked upset, she said“It’s all because of you I’m feeling sad and blueYou went away and now my life is filled with rainy daysAnd I love you so, how much you’ll never know‘Cause you took your love away from me”Now what was I to doShe’s crying over me and she was feeling blueI said, um, “Don’t cry, dry your eyeHere comes your mother with those two little guys”Her mean mother stepped up, said to me “hi”Looked Sally in the face and decked her in the eyePunched her in the belly and stepped on her feetSlammed the child on the hard concreteThe bitch was strong, the kids was goneSomething was wrong, I said “What is going on?”I tried to break it up, I said “Stop it, leave her”She said “If I can’t have you, she can’t either”She grabbed me closely by my socksSo I broke the hell out like I had the chicken pox, butShe gave chase, she caught up quickShe put a finger in the face of MC RickShe said, “Why don’t you give me a playSo we can go cruising in my OJ?And if you give me that OKI’ll give you all my love todayRicky, Ricky, Ricky, can’t you see?Somehow your words just hypnotize meAnd I just love your jazzy waysOh, MC Rick, my love is here to stay!”And on and on and on she kept onThe bitch been around before my mother’s bornI said, “Cheer up,” I gave her a kissI said, “You can’t have me, I’m too young for you miss.”She says, “No, you’re not!” then she starts cryingI says, “I’m nineteen,” she said, “Stop lying!”I says, “I am, go ask my motherAnd with your wrinkled puss*, I can’t be your lover!”To the tick tock ya don’t stopTo the tick tick ya don’t quitHit it!

Released: October 28, 2002

Album:8 Mile: Music from and Inspired by the Motion Picture

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavyThere’s vomit on his sweater already, mom’s spaghettiHe’s nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and readyTo drop bombs, but he keeps on forgettingWhat he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loudHe opens his mouth, but the words won’t come outHe’s choking, how? Everybody’s joking nowThe clock’s run out, time’s up, over, blaowSnap back to reality, ope there goes gravity, opeThere goes Rabbit, he choked, he’s so mad but he won’tGive up that easy, no, he won’t have it, he knowsHis whole back’s to these ropes, it don’t matter, he’s dopeHe knows that but he’s broke, he’s so stagnant, he knowsWhen he goes back to this mobile home, that’s when it’sBack to the lab again, yo, this old rhapsodyBetter go capture this moment and hope it don’t pass him, and

Released: April 19, 1994

Album:Illmatic

Visualizin’ the realism of life in actualityf*ck who’s the baddest, a person’s status depends on salaryAnd my mentality is money-orientatedI’m destined to live the dream for all my peeps who never made it‘Cause yeah, we were beginners in the hood as Five PercentersBut somethin’ must’ve got in us, ’cause all of us turned to sinnersNow some restin’ in peace and some are sittin’ in San QuentinOthers, such as myself, are tryin’ to carry on traditionKeepin’ this Schweppervescent street ghetto essence inside us‘Cause it provides us with the proper insight to guide usEven though we know, somehow we all gotta goBut as long as we leavin’ thievin’We’ll be leavin’ with some kind of doughSo, until that day we expire and turn to vaporsMe and my capers will be somewhere stackin’ plenty papersKeepin’ it real, packin’ steel, gettin’ high‘Cause life’s a bitch and then you die

Released: July 30, 1996

Album:Ridin’ Dirty

Well, it’s Bun B, bitch, and I’m the king of movin’ chickensNot them finger-lickings, stickin’ ni**as that be trickin’You need a swift kickin’, your ass is ripe for the pickin’Now as my pockets thicken, I’m deep-thinkin’, nickel-slickin’You sick when I be clickin’, now take a look at the bigger ni**aMalt liquor swigger, player hater ditch diggerFigure my hair trigger give a hot one in your liverYou shiver, shake, and quiverI’m frivolous if a ni**a get wetter than a riverFor what it’s worth, it’s the birth of some ni**as doin’ dirtf*ck her first night, take off the skirt, make her puss* hurtMister Master, hit the Swisha fasterThan you fever blistered bastards, f*cked your sister, passed herFifty elbows for sale, yoBrother better have my mail, ho‘Fore I catch a murder case and go to jail, ohHell no, time to bail, hit the trail soWe can sell more f*ckin’ yayo, get the scale, noOther bullet duckers can shove us out of this gameThey better buck us, ’cause the cluckers, they love usMake them glass dick suckers shake they jelly like Smucker’sI hit like nunchakus, ’cause Short Texas bring the ruckusThis for my motherf*ckers, cookin’ cheese to crooked GsRockin’ up quarter keys to get the hook with easeWanna-bes get on your knees, feel the squeeze from them HK13sFrom here to overseas, we do what we pleaseDon’t trip ’cause we flip, light up a dipI’m breakin’ ’em off from they hip to your lipGo ask that boy Skip, that ni**a Bun ripWith one clip, soon as the gun slipNow I done whipped out my Barrelli, flyin’ through your Pelle PelleAnd some smelly red jelly is drippin’ out of ya bellyServed ’em up like a deli, jumped on my cellular tele’Ho, sell it like it’s goin’ out of styleYou can’t see me, MarcusSo have a motherf*ckin’ Sweet and a smile

Released: July 7, 1987

Album:Paid in Full

I’m not a regular competitor, first rhyme editorMelody arranger, poet, et ceteraExtra events, the grand finale like bonusI am the man they call the microphonistWith wisdom, which means wise words being spokenToo many at one time, watch the mic start smokingI came to express the rap I manifestStand in my way and I’ll veto, all the word’s protestEmcees that wanna be best, they’re gonnaBe dissed if they don’t get from in front ofAll they can go get is me a glass of MoëtA hard time, sip your juice and watch a smooth poetI take seven emcees put ’em in a lineAnd add seven more brothers who think they can rhymeWell, it’ll take seven more before I go for mineNow that’s twenty-one emcees ate up at the same timeEasy does it, do it easy, that’s what I’m doingNo fessing, no messing around, no chewingNo robbing or buying, biting, why borrow?This slob will stop trying, fighting to followMy unusual style will confuse you a whileIf I was water, I’d flow in the NileSo many rhymes, you won’t have time to go for yoursJust because of applause, I have to pauseRight after tonight is when I prepareTo catch another sucker duck emcee out there‘Cause my strategy has to be tragedy, catastropheAnd after this you’ll call me your majestyMy melody

Released: February 20, 1996

Album:Reasonable Doubt

So sick of ni**as“I want money like Cosby” – who wouldn’t?This the kinda talk that make me think you probably ain’t got no puddin’ni**as got them kinda dreams from jailYou in the streets, ni**a, make your moves, get your mailni**as’ll coast in the SL but can’t post bailni**as’ll roast a L, but scared to throw your toast, wellI’m here to tell ni**as it ain’t all swellThere’s heaven, then there’s hell, ni**asOne day you’re cruisin’ in your 7, next day, you’re sweatin’, forgettin’ your liesAlibis ain’t matchin’ up, bullsh*t catchin’ upHit with the RICO, they repo your vehicleEverything was all good just a week ago‘Bout to start bitchin’, ain’t you? Ready to start snitchin’, ain’t you?I’ll forgive your weak-ass: hustlin’ just ain’t youAside from the fast cars, honies that shake they ass at barsYou know you wouldn’t be involvedWith the underworld dealers, carriers of MAC-millersEast Coast bodiers, West Coast cap-peelersLittle monkey ni**as turn gorillasStopped in the station, filled up on octane, and now they not saneAnd not playin’, that goes without sayin’Slayin’ day in and day out, when money play in, then they play you outTryin’ to escape my own mind, lurkin’ the enemyRepresentin’ infinity with presidencies, you know?

Released: July 9, 1996

Album:ATLiens

Got stopped at the mall the other dayHeard a call from the other way that I just came from (“Ayy”)Some ni**a was saying somethingTalking ’bout smoke something“Hey, man, you remember me from school?” “No, not really”But he kept smiling like a clown, facial expression looking sillyAnd he kept asking me, “What kinda car you drive?I know you paid, I know y’all got beaucoup hoesFrom all them songs that y’all done made”And I replied that I’d been going through the same things that he hasTrue, I’ve got more fans than the average manBut not enough loot to last me to the end of the weekI live by the beat like you live check-to-checkIf it don’t move your feet, then, I don’t eat, so we like neck-to-neckYes, we done come a long way like them slim-ass cigarettesFrom Virginia, this ain’t gon’ stop, so we just gon’ continue

Released: July 22, 1997

Album:No Way Out

In the commission, you ask for permission to hit ’emHe don’t like me, hit him while wifey was with himYou heard of us, the murderous, most shadyBeen on the low lately, the feds hate meThe son of Satan, they say my killing’s too blatantYou hesitatin’, I’m in your mama crib waitin’Duct tapin’ your famDestiny lays in my hands, gat lays in my waistFrancis, M to the Izz-H phenomenalGun rest under your vest by the abdominalRhyme a few bars so I could buy a few cars (A few cars)And I kick a few flows so I could pick a few hoes (A few hoes)Excellence is my presence, never tenseNever hesitant, leave a ni**a bent real quickReal sick, brawl nights, I perform like MikeAnyone, Tyson, Jordan, JacksonAction, pack guns, ridiculousAnd I’m quick to bust if my ends you touchKids or girl you touch, in this world I clutchTwo auto-matos, used to call me fatsoNow you call me Castro, my rap flows (Castro)Militant, y’all fa*ggots ain’t killing sh*tOops, Cristal keep spilling, sh*t, you overdid it, holmesYou in the danger zone, you shouldn’t be aloneHold hands and say it like meThe most shady, Frankie, baby, fantasticGraphic, tryin’ to make dough, like JurassicPark did, quick to spark kids who start sh*tSee me, only me, the underbossOf this holocaust, truly yours, Frank White

It drops deep as it does in my breathI never sleep, ’cause sleep is the cousin of deathBeyond the walls of intelligence, life is definedI think of crime when I’m in a New York State of Mind

Go ask Alice if you don’t believe me, I get in her visions like StevieSee me ascend from the chalice like the weed be

I watch him die and when he dies let us celebrateYou took his life, but your memory you’ll never take

A child is born with no state of mindBlind to the ways of mankind

A word game back up plan that can dam lakesBackup the wordplay ain’t playing that the man’s statesMeans I can still be the man if the dam breaksAnd when demand brakes I’m reflectious, what they can’t face

I’ll probably live longer than you and never fade awayI’ll never fade away, I’ll never fade away, I know my fateAnd I’m on the grind for this cake, I’ma get it or die tryin’I’m eyein’ every male gender with intentions of buyin’

He pointed to the charm on his neckWith his last bit of energy left, told me rock it with respectI opened it, seen the God holdin’ his kidsPhotogenic, tears just burst out my wig

Hold the cold one like he hold a old gunLike he hold the microphone and stole the show for funOr a foe for ransom, flows is handsome

Ah, I am the beastFeed me rappers or feed me beats

We used to fight for building blocksNow we fight for blocks with buildings that make a killin’

This is not a rap on how I’m slingin’ crack or move cocaineThis is cul-de-sac and plenty Cognac and major painNot the drill sergeant, but the stress that weighin’ on your brain

I’m only nineteen, but my mind is oldAnd when the things get for real, my warm heart turns coldAnother ni**a deceased, another story gets told

Watch as I combine all the juice from the mindHeel up, wheel up, bring it back, come, rewindPowerful impact (Boom!) from the cannon!

I ain’t a killer, but don’t push meRevenge is like the sweetest joy next to gettin’ puss*

My mind warps and bends, floats the wind, count to tenMeet the twin, André Ben’, welcome to the lion’s den

So let me get this straight, wait, I’m the rookie?But my features and my shows ten times your pay?50K for a verse, no album outYeah, my money’s so tall that my Barbies got to climb it

Ain’t nuthin’ but a G thang, babyTwo loced out ni**as going crazyDeath Row is the label that pays me

And every time you think my fifteen minutes of fame are upI’ll spit another sixteen to prove to the world I f*cking own it

I’m after the gold, then after that, the platinumBeef after that, Hurricane G packs the gat, son

‘Cause we don’t want a drug pushBut a bird in the hand is worth more than a Bush

32 shotguns, regulate with my dunns17 rocks gleam from one ringThey let me let y’all ni**as know one thingThere’s one life, one love, so there can only be one King

Like nearly half of America’s largest cities is one-quarter blackThat’s why they gave Ricky Ross all the crack16 ounces to a pound, 20 more to a kiA 5 minute sentence hearing and you no longer free

I never thought you’d give me a reason to do thisCain and Abel, Jesus and JudasCaesar and Brutus, I see intruders, avert your eyes

I met this girl when I was ten years oldAnd what I loved most, she had so much soul

Dead in the middle of Little ItalyLittle did we know that we riddled two middlemen who didn’t do diddly

Stranded on death row, so duck when I swing my sh*tI get rugged like Rawhead Rex with fat tracks that fits

No type of joke, gag, game, puzzle or riddleThe name is Big Daddy, yes, Big, not little

Yo, I got one lyric pointed at your head for startAnother one is pointed at your weak-ass heartNow if I pull the trigger on these fully-loaded linesYou’re gonna wish I would’ve pulled a black 9

Before I buck lead and make a lot of blood shedTurn your tux red, I’m far from broke, got enough breadAnd mad hoes, ask Beavis, I get nothin’ Butthead

Wu brother number oneProtect your neck, flyin’ guillotines, here they comeBloody bastards, hard times and killer tacticsSpittin’ words plus semi-automatic slurs, peep the graphic

You’re mad ’cause my style you’re admiringDon’t be mad, UPS is hiring

Tripping off the beat kinda, dripping off the meat grinderHeat niner, pimping, stripping, soft sweet minor

I would still be ridin’ MercedesComin’ down and sippin’ dailyNo record ’til whitey pay me

Major MCs become minor B-flatsSo retire the mic, get your chains and your bats

Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly EverybodyCall up KRS, I’m guaranteed to rip a party

I’m a venereal disease, like a menstrual bleedThrough the pencil, and leak on the sheet of the tablet in my mind‘Cause I don’t write sh*t, ’cause I ain’t got time

Can’t be eyes closed when you side scrollYou not the first personThe first person from your first curse until your first cursiveAnd your curse words is in the curve version

Aiyo, camouflage chameleon, ninjas scalin’ your buildingNo time to grab the gun, they already got your wife and childrenA hit was sent from the President to raid your residenceBecause you had secret evidence and documents

No score on a war-torn beachWhere the cash cow’s actually beefBlood turns wine when it leak for policeLike, “That’s not a riot; it’s a feast, let’s eat!”

Nobody can’t mute meBut I never said nobody can’t shoot me

You should print my information, quote my rhymesAnd keep me in between these New York and L.A. Times

The realest sh*t I ever wrote, not Pac inspiredIt’s crack pot inspired, my real ni**as quote

You lack the minerals and vitamins, irons and the niacinf*ck who did I offend, rappers, sit back, I’m ’bout to begin

I’m coming for you little girlOnce inside I shatter your worldSwirl, no more dreams, no hopes when I spray

I’m like young LL, cuz I’m hard as hellMakin’ ni**as screw face like GargamelNow I’m all out on my own like Patti LaBellePut the pimp game down on your mademoiselle

They declared a war on drugs, like a war on terrorBut what it really did was let the police terrorize whoever

They call me Jay Electronica—f*ck thatCall me Jay Elec-Hanukkah, Jay Elec-YarmulkeJay Elect-Ramadan, Muhammad as-salaam-alaikumRasoulAllah Subhanahu wa ta’ala through your monitor

Rhymes are rugged, soul flooded, cold bloodedYou ain’t better, you’re butter, so just shut it

I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times sideStayin’ alive was no jive

In the Bible, it says what goes around, comes aroundHommo shot me, three weeks later he got shot downNow it’s clear that I’m here for a real reason‘Cause he got hit like I got hit, but he ain’t f*ckin’ breathin’

Ayo, my murderous rap verbal attack is actual factTactical tracks match perfectly with graphical statsHalf of you lack the magical dap of tragical rapThat tackles your back and shackles and laughs at you

Better come better than better to be a competitorThis vet is ahead of the sh*t, it’s all redder, you deader and deaderA medic instead of the cheddars and creddaSettle vendetta with metal Beretta from ghetto to ghetto

I escaped the war, came backBut ain’t escape Agent Orange: two of my kids born handicappedSpastic, quadriplegia, microcephalicCerebral palsy, cortical blindness — name it, they had it

I can snap, rap, pack, click-clack, patter-pat-patTake that ass to the point you have to ask for your ass back

I got a list, here’s the order of my list that it’s inIt goes: Reggie, Jay-Z, 2Pac and BiggieAndré from OutKast, Jada, Kurupt, Nas, and then me

Get yours first, them other ni**as secondaryThat type of illin’ that be fillin’ up the cemetery

Straight outta Compton!Crazy motherf*cker named Ice CubeFrom the gang called Ni**as Wit Attitudes

Extravagant, RZA bake the track and it’s militantThen I react like a convict and start killin’ sh*t

If I’m strong enough, I’ll live long enough to see my kidsDoing something more constructive with their time than bids

Got a strange way of seeing life, likeI’m Stevie Wonder with beads under the do-ragIntuition is there, even when my vision’s impaired, yeah

I got a letter from the government the other dayI opened and read it, it said they were suckersThey wanted me for their army or whateverPicture me giving a damn, I said never

I put a hundred percent in every line I dropIt’s the Q to the B, with the M-O, B-BQueensbridge Brooklyn and we D-double-E-P, what

I ain’t talkin to Buck cause he a real ni**aAin’t talkin to Pimp cause he a trill ni**aAin’t talkin to BG cause he like me, with old cases and will kill ni**asI know you wannabe just like me since you got ya new record deal ni**aBut I don’t give a f*ck if you like me, no second diss, ya not trill ni**aYa in ya video wearin’ white T, that don’t make you no dope dealer ni**a

Ask my baby momma how much I cried when Machine Gun diedWhen I pulled up and seen that yellow tape outsideHad me ready to grab the stick and go apes outside

And if you got robbed, you got stuckIf you got shot, you got buckedAnd if you got double-crossed, you got f*cked

And as much I wanna cower, bid the mic adieuAnd fall off a f*cking tower tryna find youI gotta stay ’cause I remember that dayI looked you in the face and told you:“Nothing can stop me, not even you”

Yo, why is Jadakiss as hard as it gets?Why is the industry designed to keep the artist in debt?

Runnin this racket, from New York to MontegoSlaughtering people, bring a ton of keys from Puerto Rico

Homicide’s illegal and death is the penaltyWhat justifies the homicide when he dies in his own iniquity?

I never needed acceptance from all you outsidersHad cyphers with Yeezy before his mouth wiredBefore his jaw shattered, climbing up the Lord’s ladder

Yo, microphone check one, two, what is this?The five foot assassin with the roughneck business

My emancipation don’t fit your equationI was on the humble, you on every station

Yo, picture bloodbaths in elevator shaftsLike these murderous rhymes tight from genuine craft

I thought that real sh*t is what you been fiending ’boutWhat you been praying for? What you been screaming ’bout?Ironic, you been sleeping on the one that you been dreaming ’bout

My repertoire, is U.S.S.RP.L.O. style got thrown out the car

Back in the days when I was a teenagerBefore I had status and before I had a pagerYou could find the Abstract listenin’ to hip-hopMy pops used to say, it reminded him of Bebop

Inter-century anthems based off inner-city tantrumsBased off the way we was brandedFace it, Jerome get more time than Brandon

Fly like cashmere, last year, my team caught bodies in GrasmereHit a store owner named Mike LavognaItaliano, slanted-eye, banging a fat MilanoSelling co*ke right out the bottle

Kobe ’bout to lose a hundred fifty MsKobe my ni**a, I hate it had to be himBitch, you wasn’t with me shootin’ in the gym

Six in the morning, police at my doorFresh Adidas squeak across the bathroom floor

Bakin’ soda YOLA whippin’, ain’t no turkey on Thanksgivin’My homeboy just dome’d a ni**a, I just hope the Lord forgive him

Hold up, wait a minute (Minute), y’all thought I was finished?When I bought that Aston Martin, y’all thought it was rented?

That the last ten years, I been so f*cking stressedTears in my eyes, let me get this off my chest

Watch my brother ’round you bitches, I know he pretendsI greet you with the love of God, that don’t make us friendsI might whisper in his ear, “Bury all of them”

Just usin’ your name, I took those L’sHung ’em on your head and rocked your bells

Oyster Perpetual, cushion cut bezelI’m busy I ain’t even had time to eat a fortune cookie

If you learn one thing from my journey, ni**a, it’s don’t stop believingWhen this sh*t got so suffocating, I could barely even keep breathing

One, and here comes the two to the three and fourThen I drop the beat I have in store

Gangland, if you put a hit on Freddie Kane it’ll be a gang murder1985, Michael Jordan, bitch, I travel with a cocaine circus

I put a Rolls and a Royce on my wristYou can smell promethazine when I pissI pray to God he bring me Actavis