A Tribe Called Quest - "Steve Biko (Stir It Up)"

[The lead song on A Tribe Called Quest's third album, "Steve Biko" encapsulates everything great in golden-age hip-hop. An eight-bar brass-sample intro, Phife Dawg starts rhyming, and then WHOOOMP, the beat drops and we're off... An unimpeachable groove, Phife and Q-tip trading verses, and the perfect beginning to Tribe's finest long-player. Yeah.]

Linden Boulevard, represent, represent
Tribe Called Quest represent, represent
When the mic is in my hand, I'm never hesitant
My favourite jam back in the day was Eric B. for President

Rude boy composer
Step to me you're over
Brothers wanna flex
You're not Mad Cobra
MC short and black
There ain't no other
Trini-born black like Nia Long's grandmother
Tip and Sha they all that, Phife-Dawg ditto
Honey, tell your man to chill, or else you'll be a widow
Did not you know that my styles are top-dollar?
The Five-Foot Assassin knockin' fleas off his collar
Hip-hop scholar since bein' knee-high to a duck
The height of Muggsy Bogues, complexion of a hockey puck
You better ask somebody on how we flip the script
Come to a Tribe show and watch the three kids rip

Queens is in the house, represent, represent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent
No tamin' of the style, 'cause it gets irreverent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent

Huh-huh, here we go
You know that I'm the rebel
Throwin' out the wicked like God did the Devil
Funky like your grandpa's drawers, don't test me
We in like that, you're dead like Presley
When we comin' through get tickets to see me
We work for the paper so there'll never be a preemie
Lyrics are abundant 'cause we got it by the mass
Egos are all idle 'cause the music is the task
Valenzuela on the pitch, curveball, catch it
I think I got it locked, just smooth while I latch it
Right
Now I must move with the quickness
Here comes Shaheed so we must bear the witness

Stir it up
Stir it up
Stir it up
Steve Biko

New York City, represent, represent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent
The Dawg is scientific with the styles I invent
A Tribe Called Quest represent, represent

MCs like to meddle, but here's my proposition
I let my lyrics flow, and jumped your whole position
I'm radical with this like the man this song is after
Yo Tip, settle down, what's the reason for the laughter?

I really can't say, I guess I laugh to keep from cryin'
So much goin' on, people killin', people dyin'
But I won't dwell on that, I think I'll elevate my mental
Thanks for these bars on the Biko instrumental

Yo, I take it back, I'm the indian giver
MC's take notes as I stand and deliver
Percussion isn't less, D's wear the vest
While they dodgin' bullets, you should be dodgin' Quest
Don't get me wrong, violence is not our forte
I just like to rhyme, kick the lyric skills like Pele
Tip, educate 'em, my rhymes are strictly taboo
Fill 'em with some fantasies and I'll look out like Tattoo

Okay
I am recognizing that the voice inside my head
Is urging me to be myself but never follow someone else
Because opinions are like voices, we all have a different kind
So just clean out all of your ears, these are my views and you will find that
We revolutionize over the kick and the snare
The ghetto vocalist is on a state-wide tear
Soon to be the continent, and then the freakin' globe
There's room for it all as we mingle at the ball
We welcome competion 'cause it doesn't make one lazy or worn
We gotta work hard, you know the damn card
Try to be the fattest is the level that we strive
Try to be the fattest also to stay alive

The Pharcyde - "Otha Fish"

[A stand-out track on The Pharcyde's uniformly brilliant debut album, "Otha Fish" showcases the melodic rap-sung vocal style of Tre "SlimKid 3" Hardson (the other MC's only joining in on the refrain)... Dropping cultural references galore, inventing words, bending and mixing metaphors with impunity, he spins a tale of heartbreak, longing, and eventual recovery; beneath the lyrical flow, a headnodding beat entwines with samples from Marvin Gaye and Herbie Mann tracks to form a perfectly executed slice of laid-back summertime hip-hop.]

It took a second to register up in my brainium
My dome, my head, my skull, my cranium
My eyes have had enough, it was time to do some talkin'
I had to creep through the hound dogs that were stalkin'
This slimmy caught me peepin'
This means she wasn't sleepin' on who I was
So she crept in like a hawk
In a minute's time, we adjourned to the floor
Ooh, I hit a high note 'cause of the way that she was walkin'
We got into the groove
I didn't bust no, uh, hip-hop moves
I just kept it nice and smooth
Next thing you know we got together
Word, I thought we'd be forever
Didn't have an um-ber-eller
Now I'm soaked in stormy weather
Whether two birds of a feather fly or fall it'll be together
Never skimpin'
And leave your love life limp
There'll be no suicide attempts for this slim trim kid
Cause you know there's otha fish in the sea, that is

(In the sea, in the sea that is
You know there's otha fish in the sea, that is)

I reminisce, try to clear up all the myths
For an imaginary kiss with you again
Not even friends, though I wish that I could mend
Like a tailor and be Olive Oyl's number one sailor
I am's what I am, still
I falls like an anvil
She's heavy on the mind sometimes it's more than I can handle
But men aren't supposed to tumble in to the den
Be macho, but a honcho like Pancho will give in
Family-oriented, but not Oriental
A dame is supposed to claim you even if you drive a Pinto
A hero is a sandwich and a Manwich is a meal
A marriage is a paper, are they fakin' or for real?
What's the deal, Dabbers?
Will you go tumblin' after
Your man and take a stand or will you help him roll faster?
The reason why I ask you is because I'm sick of this
Bitch lickin' drip drip from a niggas benefits
He doesn't even suit you and he's surely not your size
I'm surprised that you slept on a heart that's worldwide
And when you open up your eyes, babe, my mate, I really wish
That you don't bruise a limb as you swim with otha fish in the sea

Now if there ain't no mountain high enough
Why ain't you climbin' up?
My hand has been extended ever since the day I lent it to ya
I thought I knew you but I didn't even know ya
Bro, you're stupid cause you thought you'd catch a Cupid
And you found that love ain't two whiffs of shit
So I resign to quit
It ain't even about the hips, or the lips, or the tits or
Even the pussy-whip
Elizabeth, this is it
Because I slipped and I tripped into a shoe that didn't fit
And now the next man is stealing my heart away
I charge him like a bull but his pull never fades me
The kid is goin' crazy
They steppin' with my lady
They're workin' on a baby
I'm pushin' up the daisies
But, hey diddle diddle, I won't play second fiddle
To no man who'd stand firm on this
And seal up all the bliss
With a big juicy kiss
Just call me Big Gibraltar, miss
No, I won't diss
I'm just like, onto otha fish in the sea...

Black Sheep - "The Choice Is Yours (revisited)"

[Released in 1991, "Choice (revisited)" stands as not only a seminal slice of middle-school rap, but as a stone cold classic that can rock a dancefloor to this day. It's also a prime example of a remix that betters the original in all regards, with most of the best-remembered elements (the chanting intro, the this-or-that backing vocals, the entire third verse, the descending bassline) appearing only in this version. Tongue-twisting wordplay, inspired use of samples, an infectious beat... And of course, the "engine engine number nine" section that precedes the final verse is one of the great shout-along moments in hip-hop.]

YO, C'MON! Who's the Black Sheep, what's the Black Sheep?
Know not who I am, or when I'm coming so you sleep
Wasn't in my room, I wasn't in your sphere
Knew not who I was, but listen here
Dres, D-R-E-S, yes I guess I can start
If it's all right with you, I'll rip this here one apart
Back, middle, to the front, don't front
Want a good time, wanna give you what you want
Can I hear a hey
Now get a yo
You gotta hey
It's for the hous'
The styling is creative, Black Sheep of the Native
Can't be violated, or even decepticated
I got brothers in the Jungle, cousins on the Quest
Deaf retarded uncles, in part is where they rest
Guess, which way, what, when, how
Mista Lawnge, Dres, Black Sheep slam NOW
Know you've heard the others, phonies to the lovers
Then of course, the choice is yours

You can get with this, or you can get with that
You can get with this, or you can get with that
You can get with this, or you can get with that
I think you'll go with this, 'cause this is where it's at.
You can get with this, or you can get with that
You can get with this, or you can get with that
You can get with this, or you can get with that
I think you'll go with this, 'cause this is kinda fat

Where's the Black Sheep, here's the Black Sheep
Even if we wanted to, the flock could not be weak
Watch me swing like this, why should I swing it like that
Because in fact, on me it might not attract
Therefore I ignore, do as I feel inside
I live with me, I've got my back tonight
Ya know what I'm saying, yo Black, I'm not playing
Need to go with this, or go with that with no delay, an'
See, in actuality, one but can it be,
I made it look easy, because it is to me
Any time capacity was filled, try to rock it
Any time a honey gave us play, tried to knock it
Never was a fool, so we finished school
Never see us sweat, and you'll never see us drool
Out to rock the globe while it's still here to rock
Don't punch girls, and we don't punch a clock
Gotta go, gotta go, see you later by the cat
And you can't beat that with a bat...

Engine, Engine, Number Nine
On the New York transit line
If my train goes off the track,
Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!

Back on the scene,
Crispy and clean,
You can try,
But then why,
Cause you can't intervene
We be the outcast
Down for the settle
Won't play rock
Won't play the pebble
Open the door, you best believe
We're sliding through it swift...ly
Niftily
We can make it hip to be
What we are 'cause what we be
Be the epitome, doo-dah-dippity
So now I dwell
Just to say you're plainer
Hold your cup cause I got the container
Pass a plate 'a,
Cross the fader
Black Sheep getting played like a Sony in a Beta
Never the traitor
Party inflata'
And you can get a scoop, later.

KRS-ONE - "MC's Act Like They Don't Know"

[Released in 1995, "MC's Act" remains KRS-ONE's highest-charting single (having reached 57 on Billboard's Top 100), thanks to his unrelenting lyrical attack and a infectious, understated beat from DJ Premier.]

Clap your hands everybody, if you got what it takes
Cos I'm KRS and I'm on the mic, and Premier's on the breaks!

If you don't know me by now I doubt you'll ever know me
I never won a Grammy, I won't win a Tony
But I'm not the only MC keepin' it real
When I grab the mic to smash a rapper, girls go "ILLLLLL!"
Check the time as I rhyme, it's 1995
Whenever I arrive, the party gets live-er
Flow with the master rhymer, that's to leave behind
The video rapper, you know, the chart climber
Clapper, down goes another rapper
Onto another matter, punch up the data, Blastmaster
Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everybody
Call up KRS, I'm guaranteed to rip a party
Flat top, braids, bald heads or natty dread
There once was a story about a man named Jed
But now Jed is dead, all his kids instead
Want to kick rhymes off the top of they head
Word, what go around come around I figure
Now we got white kids callin' themselves niggas
The tables turned as the crosses burned
Remember, You Must Learn
About the styles I flip and how wild I get
I go on like a space age rocket ship
You could be a mack, a pimp, hustler or player
But make sure live you is a dope rhyme sayer

This is what you waited all year for
The hardcore, that's what KRS is here for
Big up Grand Wizard Theodore, gettin' ill
If you see then ya saw I'm in your grill with mad skill
MC's can only battle with rhymes that got punchlines
Let's battle to see who headlines
Instead of flow for flow let's go show for show
Toe for toe, yo, you better act like you know
Too many MC's take that word 'emcee' lightly
They can't move a crowd, not even slightly
It might be the fact that they express wackness
Let me show ya whose ass is the blackest
I flip a script a little bit, you ride the tip and shit
Too sick to get with it, admit you bit, your style is
counterfeit
Now tone it down a bit
My title you will never get, I'm too intelligent
I'll send your family my sentiments, my style is toxic
When I rock and shock and hip hop it unlock your head, I knock it
It split quick from the lyric
Direct hit, perfect fit, you can't get with it

Some MC's don't like the KRS, but they must respect him
Cos they know this kid gets all up in they rectum
Slappin' and selectin' em, checkin' em, disrespectin' em
Just deckin' em, deckin' em, deckin' em
Who in their right mind can mimic a style like mine?
I design rhyme and get mine all the time
MC's standin' on the sidelines, always dissin'
When I roll up and rush their crew they start bitchin'
I don't burn, I don't freeze, yet some MC's
Believe they could tangle with the likes of these
Cross your t's and dot your i's whenever I arrive
Wide, magnified, live like the ocean tide
You dope, you lied, I reside like artifacts
On the wrong side of the tracks, electrified
Comin' around the mountain, you run and hide
Hopin' your defense mechanism can divert my heat-seeking lyricism
As I spark mad iszm
The 1996 lyrical style's what I give 'em

Nice & Smooth - "Hip-Hop Junkies"

[Cultural references fly by at a mile a minute in this classic slice of early 90's hip-hop, thanks to the lyrical gifts of MCs Greg Nice and Smooth B.; add an infectious Partridge Family sample and a hot beat, and it's a recipe for party-rockin' that can't be denied.]

I got a funky funky rhyme with a funky style
I got a funky funky rhyme with a funky funky style
I got a funky rhyme with a funky funky style
I got a funky rhyme with a funky funky style

Rickety Rocket was my favorite cartoon
After marriage, the honeymoon
I'll be damned, gag me with a spoon
Who loves Popeye?
Alice The Goon!
Ladies, let your body flow
Send a chill up your spine like an eskimo
Here's a backstage pass to a funky show
Come give me a kiss under the mistletoe
Greg Nice, my life's like a fairy tale
Orca was a great big whale
I knew a fat girl who broke the scale
You won't tell, I won't tell
Clientele, I must excel
Took a little test, I passed then fail
Brakes, hunh, no need to hit'em
Skins, ya got 'em - I wanna get wit 'em!

Nice & Smooth is funky
Also hip-hop junkies
All we wanna do is unh unh in you

Nice & Smooth is funky
Also hip-hop junkies
All we wanna do is unh unh...

(Smooth B)
Yo, I gotta funky funky rhyme wit a funky funky style
Funky rhyme wit a funky funky style
Funky funky rhyme wit a funky funky style
I gotta funky rhyme wit a funky funky style

Got outta my bed
about eight
And then I called Greg Nice cause it wasn't too late
To get some skins
and come around the block
Cause man, my tip is harder than a rock
He said bet, so I let
Greg Nice call this girl named Annazette
Annazette, the teacher's pet
You sure shes gonna come on this set?
He said Smooth B don't you fret
My tip is on her way yo, quiet as kept
The tall slim fly kid with dope steps
Yep, coming with a box of hats
Yo, Greg Nice, is that girl all that
He said Smooth B, the skins is FAT

I don't beg cause cause I'm not a begonia
I dress warm so that I won't catch pneumonia
My rhymes are stronger than ammonia
I'm a diamond, you're a cubic zirconia...