New York

Big L:

I drink Moet not Beck's beer, I stay dressed in slick gear

Peace to my homies in the gangsta lean, I see you when I get there

And it's a fact I keep a gat in my arm reach

I charm freaks and bomb geeks from here to Palm Beach

I'm puttin rappers in the wheelchair, Big L is the villain

You still fear, cause I be hangin in Harlem and my shit is for real here

If you battle L you picked the wrong head

I smash mics like cornbread, you can't kill me I was born dead

And I'm known to pull steel trigs and kill pigs

I run with ill kids and real nigs who peel wigs

My rap's steady slammin, I keep a heavy cannon

It's a new sherriff in town, and it ain't Reggie Hammond

2Pac:

Now shit's constantly hot, on my block, it never fails to be gunshots

Can't explain a mother's pain, when her son drops

Black male slipping in hail when will we prevail

Fearing jail but crack sales got me living well

And the system's suicidal with this Thug's Life

Staying strapped forever trapped in this drug life

God help me, cause I'm starving, can't get a job

So I resort to violent robberies, my life is hard

Can't sleep cause all the dirt make my heart hurt

Put in work and shed tears for my dead peers

Mislead from childhood where I went astray

Till this day I still pray for a better way

Can't help but feel hopeless and heartbroke

From the start I felt the racism cause I'm dark

Couldn't quit the bullshit make me represent

Hit the bar and played the star, everywhere I went

In my heart, I felt alone out here on my own

I close my eyes and picture home

Big L:

Aiyyo, you betta flee Hobbes, or get your head flown three blocks

L keep rapper's hearts pumpin like Reeboks

And every year I gain clout and my name sprouts

Some brothers'd still be vergins if the crack never came out

I got the wild style, always been a foul child

My guns go boom-boom, and yo' guns go wow-pow

I'm known to have a hottie open, I keep the shottie smokin

Front and get half the bones in your body broken

And when it comes to gettin nookie I'm not a rookie

I got girls that make that chick Toni Braxton look like Whoopie

I run with sturdy clicks I'm never hittin dirty chicks

Got thirty-five bodies, Buddy don't make it thirty-six

Biggie:

I know how it feel to wake up fucked up

Pockets broke as hell, another rock to sell

People look at you like youse the user

Selling drugs to all the losers, mad buddha abuser

But they don't know about your stress-filled day

Baby on the way mad bills to pay

That's why you drink Tanqueray; so you can reminisce

And wish, you wasn't livin so devilish, ssshit

I remember I was just like you

Smokin blunts with my crew, flippin over 62's

Cause G-E-D, wasn't B-I-G

I got P-A-I-D, that's why my moms hate me

She was forced to kick me out, no doubt

Then I figured out nicks went for twenty down South

Packed up my tools for my raw power move

Glock nineteen for casket and flower moves

For chumps tryin to stop my flow

And what they don't know will show on the autopsy

Went to see Papi, to cop me a brick

Asked for some consignment and he wasn't tryin to hear it

Smoking mad Newports cause I'm due in court

For an assault, that I caught, in Bridgeport, New York

Catch me if you can like the Gingerbread Man

You better have your gat in hand, cause man

Jadakiss:

Uh, I learnt the game, I know what I want and I'm in it

The time is now, it's gonna be up in a minute

You look a ***** in the eye, you could tell if he tinted

These fake rappers gettin by with these hell of a gimmicks

They act like it's all love, only love is your money

So when it's over *****, are you a thug or a dummy

I'm neither, but I been hot so long, it feels like I got a lifetime fever

And I ain't gotta spit, I could cough and still eat ya

And f*** rap I make mills of reefer

I'm a man first, tired of punchin *****z, so I'mma shoot *****z cuz my hands hurt

And God is great, guard ya space

One hand wash the other, both wash the face

And I head crack so much, it's hard to ace

.38 revolver flow, its hard to trace, what!

Fat Joe:

Nigga I can see the coke in your nose

This ain't a movie, even he got his head blown on the globe

And I was just about to find God

But now that Mase is back, I think I'd much rather find a menage

And everybody talkin crazy how they're AK spit

But we know this investigatin, and they ain't spray shit

Not me, I'm the truth homie, got the industry shook like

"Naw nigga, Joe gonna let em loose on me"

True Story, I'm bringin the T back

Even Roy Jones was forced to "Lean Back"

My nigga Dre said grind cook

Now we killin them hard niggas, who said I must of found Pun's rhyme book

Got bitches on top of the Phantom

And the pinky got bling, like the ring around Saturn

Cook coke, crack, niggas fiend for that

And you already know the x is where the team be at