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rap tune of the day

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Artist: Nice & Smooth

Album: Ain't a Damn Thing Changed

Song: Sometimes I Rhyme Slow

Typed by: OHHLA.com


(Greg Nice)

Sometimes I rhyme slow sometimes I rhyme quick

I'm sweeter and thicker than a chico stick

Here's an ice cream cone honey take a lick

I go to Bay Plaza and catch a flick

Wore my Timberland boots so I can stomp ticks

Scandalous get a wiff of this mist

Just like the Yar Boys now I'm blissed

I feel good per say good state of mind

Drive a red Sterling and the seats recline

I love it when a lady treats me kind

Go to Tavern on the Green have a glass of wine

He say, she say I heard it through the grapevine

No static, got an automatic

Too much of anything makes you an addict

Teasin, skeezin, all so pleasin

Don't ask why I got my own reasons

Smooth B Greg Nice Slick Nick click

Sometimes I rhyme slow sometimes I rhyme quick...




(Smooth B)

Sometimes I rhyme slow sometimes I rhyme quick

I was on 125 and Saint Nick

Waiting on a cab, standing in the rain

Under my heart three clouds of pain

She got the best of me

What was her destiny?

Maybe I should lick her with my nine millime...ter

My mind is in a blur

Cause you could never pay me to think this would occur

Me and this girl Jane Doe was living together

We were inseparable, noone could sever

At least that's what I thought

But later I fought with her substance

And almost ended up in Supreme Court

When I was on the road doing shows getting biz

She was in my penz getting stiffy with her friends

And even when she crashed my whip I didn't flip

My man Slick Nick said Smooth you're starting to slip

Time went on I started noticing weight loss

Then I had to ask her was she riding the white horse

At first she said no, then she said yo Smooth I'm sorry

But I keep having visions of snow

I need doe

And I said woah little hottie

I'm not DeLorean, Gambino or Gotti

I don't deal coke, and furthermore you're making me broke

I'll put you in a rehab and I won't tell your folks

And what do you know

In 18 months she came home and I let her back in

And now she's sniffing again...



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Guest beardo

for seek...

Artist: The D.O.C.

Album: No One Can Do It Better

Song: The Formula


High energy flowin' with the wisdom

Sense of a rich man, knowledge and the rhythm

This is what I'm using to come up with a style

So I'll interact altogether better with the crowd

Nervous for a second then the record starts spinnin'

And I fall into the state of mind of what I'd just created

Pump it like the Dr. D into the R.E. suckers ready to leap

Up on the tip when we made it

Creative so I'll never be regarded as a regular

More than just a little bit better than my competitor

You should never underestimate the fashion

I hold for the stage whether I'm coolin' or thrashin''

Clockin' the concoction created by me

When read you read E = the D.O. to the C.

Knowledge and the talent that my mother had born to her

Equals an artist that wont' be worn, what is that Dre?

It's the formula


It's like a message that only I could understand

But those who want to comprehend will again

Be in the midst of the brother

Unlike another in any way

'Cause Dre don't play, say what the other say

Originality is a must whenever I bust

A funky composition, it's crush and I trust that you

Know it when you hear a funky record with potential

Me gettin' hype 'cause Dre rockin' the instrumental

Nothing like what you've heard before and more, never less

See I don't Fess, I mean I'm like fresh if not the freshest

When I'm expressin' my thoughts on

Vinyl, you can't help but listen up and get caught on

Hooked because I cook when I pick up a pen

And begin, in the end it's dope, that's 'cause I want to win

Knowledge and the talent that my mother had born to her

Equals the DOC, what is it Dre?

Yo, that's the formula


Keepin' it dope as long as I can like imagine

Makin' each record that I do better than the last one

Take a little time, choose the topic and drop it

Release it, the science of makin' dope beats with

Rhythmic American poetry

Shipped it to stations, now many people know of me

I'm the D. into the O. and the O. into the C. and the C. into the period

Suckers are fearing' this

When heard, the dope style calculated by the great wait

And take just a second to get caught up in my record

new but not a kid to be worn

If something' gettin' torn up then I'm doin' the

Tearin', not bein' torn

Shapin up to be one for the top vocalist lyricist

And when you hear of this

You shouldn't choke on this

Knowledge and the talent makes it valid

For me to get it patented

Dre, tellin' what I'm rappin'

The formula

In effect and I'm smooth, that's why I'm on the incline

Suckers frontin' for nothin' 'cause I'm goin' to get mine

It's in the cards and I thank I might have read this

so dont' lie and try to front like someone said this

Most who know thoughts served by the DOC see

That it's a mission impossible, tryin' to rock me

For an arena who'd ask me to perform for her

G.O. and easily I flow and ya know usin' the formula


IM LOOKING FOR THIS ALBUM.. if anyone has it id trade.. sketches... flicks.. stickers.. whatever for it. one of my all time favorite albums.. DONT SLEEP!!


[This message has been edited by beardo (edited 08-16-2001).]

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anyone know what song was sampled for sometimes i rhyme slow?

i think i heard it once, maybe im wrong

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Guest beardo

Artist: Camp Lo

Album: Uptown Saturday Night

Song: Luchini (This is It)

Typed by: twc@dnai.com




This is it (What?!)

Luchini pourin' from the sky

Lets get rich (What?!)

The cheeky vines

The sugar dimes

Cant quit (What?!)

Now pop the cork and steam the vega

And get lit (What?! What?! What?!)


Verse One:


Introducin', phantom of the dark

Walk through my heaven with levitation

From efficient

and these leathers showboatin with Rugars

Flash vines, Belafonte vigga

Lets get for what it's worth

As we confiscate your figgas


Cassanova brown levitatin jiggy in da shiggy's

In la hotta Car 54 chasin diamond runners

Headin ice bound, where every chilla dime can get

Your Harlem buck strut freezin world hice Hollywood

Madame Butterfly let me in your house of pleasure

From the knuckle swat shadowboxin catchin black-eye blues


I play the deef (What?!)

Sensations at the Monte Barbie screamin (Cheeba!)

For fillin pleasures at my castles (Blow the smoke out!)

The boss of Vegas substitutes when the Dutch is gone

The Lo don't stop give me shouts

Its the season sauters

Souflers for swervin no corners

We magnets to moolah

Livin wit Charlie's Angels hornets

No smilin were slidin

That gets you caught up in the octa

Or deaded for movin

Its just like that as we proceed


Saturday night special better take it lightly Ja-Jiyah

A happy time quest to the coast of Key Largo wire-ah

The chain gang keep your ears out for our years

Sippin' fountain root house of bamboo paradise


Chorus: repeat 2X


This is it (What?!)

Luchini pourin' from the sky

Lets get rich (What?!)

The cheeky vines

The sugar dimes

Cant quit (What?!)

Now pop the cork and steam the vega

And get lit (What?!)

[1st time] This is it (What?!)

[2nd time] (What?! What?!)


Verse Two:


For these feral herds of seas of black cheese that I can't missa

Silky Days, satin nights taken flights down <???>

We sensation spanish flyin with the lady Scarface

Bottoms up sunshine.. Love Potion Number 9


And we headin from the magic city chessin this sweet

On your orifachiny in London

Relaxation in Bora Bora

Got notion to bring it... sing it

Love up in my function

Stonin... robbin

We hiestin merchandise and gunnin

Love it... leave it

But bless the war chief or his bison

Get it... got it

The Lo will forever be nicin


Yeah; the Sonny Cheeba he be sippin Armaretta

The Geechie Gracious he be sippin Armaretta

We float the tri-state drink in this satin vines

This Coolie High jack pack from the sugar shack

Then what we do after we sip the Armaretta

We start the Harlem River quiver

Dig it sweet daddy

Sharpen the crimson blade

High sierra seranade

Anatomy for seduction be this here



Enter the place with grace

Jersey Armaretta the burstin of clouds

It pours.. everything seems better

Or flats with love we move

Only in the mist

Its Lo its life

And we can't get enough of this


Chorus: repeat 2X


This is it (What?!)

Luchini pourin' from the sky

Lets get rich (What?!)

The cheeky vines; the sugar dimes

Cant quit (What?!)

Now pop the cork and steam the vega

And get lit (What?!)

[1st time] This is it (What?!)

[2nd time] This is it (What?!) (x2)





The Sonny Cheeba he be sippin Armaretta

The Geechy Gracious he be sippin Armaretta

The Joe King he be sippin Armaretta

The Chaquita Kid he be sippin Armaretta

We got high stakes for mine Kiwa Armaretta

And then my man Ill Will sip Armaretta

And then my man Cab in the tray sippin that

We slide through the Tri-State with the hi-hat

And then I float side-to-side in my Coolie High

And then I peep the sunset with this Spanish Fly


And then I float down south with the Boogie Flats

And then I slide up in-between a ziggy

And all of that gibs

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Guest chicken bone

nice and smooth is dope.. redbone booties im out to taaaag dewdewdewdewdewwww dewdewdewdew budadoo budadoo doooooooo!!

that one song where they use that parliament funkadelic beat.. i forgot both the songs but they're in my head. soemtimes i rhyme slow is like my 2nd favorite song by them.



chicken bone!

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...Does anyone have a copy of the TREACHEROUS THREE- New Rap Language?

The enitre track? ..or know where I can get a copy?..Not a download, like an actual tape or record,cd,etc..


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Artist: Nas

Song: it ain't hard to tell

Album: IllmaticIt ain't hard to tell, I excel, then prevail

The mic is contacted, I attract clientele

My mic check is life or death, breathin a sniper's breath

I exhale the yellow smoke of buddha through righteous steps

Deep like The Shinin', sparkle like a diamond

Sneak a uzi on the island in my army jacket linin

Hit the Earth like a comet, invasion

Nas is like the Afrocentric Asian, half-man, half-amazin

Cause in my physical, I can express through song

Delete stress like Motrin, then extend strong

I drank Moet with Medusa, give her shotguns in hell

From the spliff that I lift and inhale, it ain't hard to tell


The buddha monk's in your trunk, turn the bass up

Not stories by Aesop, place your loot up, parties I shoot up

Nas, I analyze, drop a jew-el, inhale from the L

School a fool well, you feel it like braille

It ain't hard to tell, I kick a skill like Shaquille holds a pill

Vocabulary spills I'm +Ill+

plus +Matic+, I freak beats slam it like Iron Shiek

Jam like a tech with correct techniques

So analyze me, surprise me, but can't magmatize me

Scannin while you're plannin ways to sabotage me

I leave em froze like her-on in your nose

Nas'll rock well, it ain't hard to tell


This rhythmatic explosion, is what your frame of mind has chosen

I'll leave your brain stimulated, niggaz is frozen

Speak with criminal slang, begin like a violin

End like Leviathan, it's deep well let me try again

Wisdom be leakin out my grapefruit troop

I dominate break loops, givin mics men-e-straul cycles

Street's disciple, I rock beats that's mega trifle

And groovy but smoother than moves by Villanova

You're still a soldier, I'm like Sly Stone in Cobra

Packin like a rasta in the weed spot

Vocals'll squeeze glocks, MC's eavesdrop

Though they need not to sneak

My poetry's deep, I never fell

Nas's raps should be locked in a cell

It ain't hard to tell





Girls suck.

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Jeru - One Day

Album - Wrath of the Math


one day about 6 o'clock im woke up

by the sound of my buzzer

and a car, or a truck

screeching off

so i jump up, scratch my nuts

but when im like "who's that?"

nobody speaks up

so i go

to the door

there's a note

it says we have hip hop hostage

with guns to his throat

do the right thing

and we might let him go

but if you call the police

thats all she wrote

you know what the motive is,

its all about dough

and in case you think we bullshittin,

here's the photo

i couldnt recognize the clowns

cuz they was all hooded down

but i peeped Foxy Brown

sippin Cristal in the background

with fake aligator boots on

and smack dab in the middle was hip hop with the

Versace suit on.

i immediately called Primo

i said "hip hop is in trouble

meet me at my rest on the double

dont even jump in the shower,

matter fact scratch my rest

meet me at D & D in a half an hour.

and bring all your shit with you

cuz you know what we got to do, yo Afu"

(Afu) "what's up"

lets Jetson like Elroy

if i recall correctly i last saw hip hop

down at Bad Boy.

we'll see if Puff knows whats up

cuz he's the one getting him drunk

and fuckin his mind up.

we go to the office,

he's nowhere to be found

so we snatched up J-Black and beat his punk ass down.

"now where's hip hop?"

"aiight, aiight"

he confess Suge came and took him from Puff last night.

he said he'd give him up if a real nigga came to retrieve him,

so we went to LA later that evening.

when we got there,

everything was aiight

and we brought hip hop back home that night.

one day...............

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Artist: The Coup

Song: Not Yet Free

Typed by: *someone who makes alota mistakes*


Blacks are too fuckin broke to be republicans



In this land I can't stand or sit

and not get shit thrown up in my face

A brotha never gets his props

I'm doin bellyflops at the department of waste

And everyday I pulls a front so nobody pulls my card

I got a mirror in my pocket and I practice lookin hard

I'm lookin behind me beside me ahead of me

There'll be no feet makin tracks here instead of me

But I can't disregard just what the news says to me

I'm twenty-one, so I've reached my life expectancy

At any minute I could be in some shit that kills my skinny ass

From motherfuckers doin the sellout strut or probably Oakland task

My relationship with OPD has been like one big diss

Long arm of the law, grips my dick so tight it's hard to even piss

So I forgot ain't even got a pot to do it in

Up at the church they're tellin me it's because I live in sin

So I grin, but nevertheless my mind won't dwell

I must be trippin cause I thought I was livin in hell

Capitalism is like a spider, the web is getting tighter

I'm struggling like a fighter, just to bust loose

It's like a noose asyphyxiation sets in

Just when I think I'm free it seems to me the spider steps in

This web is made of money made of greed made of me

Of what I have become in a parasite economy


(E Roc)

In the winter there's a splinter with the smell of the rain

And the scent of the street, but all I smell is the pain

Of a brotha who's a hustler and he's stuck to the grind

Of a sista who's a hooker gotta sell her behind

Desperation makes her brotha get a little more bold

The circumstance gets deeper when it's damp and it's cold

So I spend my time thinking bout the ultimate gank

Can I get my Coup together pull a move on the bank?

I be the picture perfect hustler for the piece of the pie

But my daddy always taught me just to reach for the sky

Now my dream and aspirations go from single to hoe

As I realize there's a million motherfuckers in the cold

No need to be told, cause when you got a million po' people

Gettin ganked, by a few that are rich and evil

But it's illegal, to wonder how they livin fat

One two three everybody get a gat



Ahhhhhh yeah!

Niggaz, thugs, dope dealers and pimps

Basketball players, rap stars, and simps

That's what little black boys... are made of

Sluts, hoes, and press the naps around your beck

Broads pop that coochie, bitches stay in check

That's what little black girls... are made of

But if we're made of that who made us

and what can we do to change us

The oppressor tries to tame us

here's a FOOT for his anus!

Well since the days when I was shittin in diapers

It was evident the President didn't like us

Assassination attempts I'd root for the snipers

My teacher told me that I didn't know what right was

Well she was wrong cause I knew what a right was

And a left and an uppercut, too

I had a hunch a sucker punch is what my people got

That's why I was constantly red, black, and blue



[E] Boots, Boots, Boots, you wanna throw some shots out?

Ay man I ain't done with my lyrics yet, that's not cool

[E] Ay, but ain't this a freestyle?

Naw, this is not yet freestyle cause we not yet free

[E] Hey we gonna throw some shots out anyway

*guns are cocked*

Awright fuckit, who y'all wanna throw some shots out to?

[E] Uhh whassup with that uhh Bill Clinton and Al Gore?

Aight, they the new masters up in the White House and everything

Let's throw some shots out

[E] Yeah

*blam, blam blam*

Awright, what about Bush? He on the way out and everything

but I think we need a goodbye for his ass

*gun cocked*

[E] Uh-huh


[E] See-ya!

Awright, what about Ross Perot and the good ol boys?

*guns cocked*

[E] The who?

You know who they are, awright

*blam blam, blam*

Ay what about Pete Wilson? (Whassup) That Pete Wilson motherfucker

[E] Yeah whassup wit him?



[E] Got him!

Awright, ay, the L.A.P.D., *guns cocking repeatedly throughout*

The O.P.D., The Richmond P.D., Detroit P.D., ay

[E] Ay fuck it, fuck it, the whole, the whole motherfuckin P.D.

Awright, load up

[E] Yeah, here's a loaded club for yo' ass


Awright, cool -- ay, what about these skinheads?

Ay check it out

[E] I can't stand dem fools

Awright awright, load it up, load it up, awright, cool


[E] Yeah, got em!

Ay, what about these sellout motherfuckers!

[E] Who? *gun cocks*

You know these sellout motherfuckers -- Ellay DuHarris

[E] Who else? *gun cocks*

Tom Bradley

[E] Who else? *gun cocks*

David Dinkins, ay, line em up

[E] Yeah be true to the game

*blam blam blam blam*

Ay, we outta ammo, what we gon do?

[E] Let's get the fuck up outta here

Aight cool, we out

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Guest dukeofyork

awwwww shit...

this is it WHAT...

aint nothin compares to some looochini..

say word..he he.....

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Artist: Kool Keith

Album: Plastic World 12"

Song: Get Off My Elevator



Get off my elevator!

(Security will escort you out the building)

Get off my elevator!

(That woman is very nosey)


I choose my subjects, personal man, that's what I want to write

Critics critique, I compel that lots of rappers weak

'97 I blacked out, he's paying all my rent

Larger than hip-hop, you watch me like the president

No feedback on R&B scams motivate me

With stretch marks around your gut plus I know you hate me

Guard your feet, lose celulite, I'm a come complete

Work off your stomach pounds with super sonic stomach sounds

That's word to hoss, animal heads, stupid fly gorilla

I get pros vexed, on ghetto clicks I get iller

Guard your rab mics, my style shine like zebra stripes

Right in your forehead, my word becomes a real missle

I be hanging in back doors like Rose's toilet tissue

Hydrolic engines blow flies out your left window

Your rap is catnip with slob dropping on the pillow

Shut your face, shut your mouth like pigeons floying south

I'm rolling rampart, the bottom kids where you start

Get off my two sacks, light your pipes, load your cracks


Get off my elevator!

(Security will escort you out the building)

Get off my elevator!

(That woman is nosey, trying to find out business)

Get off my elevator!

(Security will escort you out my building)

Get off my elevator!

(That woman is nosey, trying to find out more business)


You're rapping wackey, your whole wardrobe, your colored food stamps

Department of agriculture scheming like a vulture

I burn your sideburns off on tracks like John Shaft

You be counting your pubic hairs trying to do the math

Like mascot, you front your ashy face and black beat

Studio platic melts panties sweating street heat

I'll be there like Vladimir packing in your ear

Dr. Smith, Will Robinson make you say "Oh dear"

I take your tour bus, treat you like infested puss

Lima beans drop down and grease your dirty jeans

National thunderstorms, step up and find your power

Your records hot melt like yogurt and you smell sour

Get my reels, Ampex, a-DAT system flex

You got polio knees, lock fell on Soul Train

The anser is Anorex, punks I'll flip your brain

Like Don Cornelious, I hide behind the scenes

Make you lick my hot dogs with ketchup on two beans

I censorship real quick and feed your family cabbage

Make you thought eat ham hocks, tuna out the garbage

Blind your range with tones, your radio sounds strange

Eat out your rear bag, snatch ribs out your wild coyote

Tell Bob to pay me, the company boss still owe me

But Capitol built walls, built fences

I come for my check, don't lower your defenses


Get off my elevator!

(Security will escort you out my building)

Get off my elevator!

(You are very nosey and un-highclassed)

Get off my elevator!

(Security will definitely esort you away from my building)

Get off my elevator!

(You'll be shipped away in a cop car)


Elevation, I want elevation beyond elevation yes!

Elevation, elevation, past elevation

Elevation, elevators elevating elevation

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Originally posted by omone:

anyone know what song was sampled for sometimes i rhyme slow?

i think i heard it once, maybe im wrong



Tracy Chapman: (Elektra 1988)

"Fast Car"

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