Disc 1 | ||||||
---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
1. |
| - | ||||
2. |
| - | ||||
3. |
| - | ||||
(feat. Tragedy)
(Feels good) (Tragedy) [VERSE 1] I'm here to bust your shit The mastermind of manuscripts The force of extremity My rhymes are the remedy You can't deal with the T-r-a-g Rap ??? flowin like the Pegasus Rhymin is as easily as the obvious I bust your head pulsating rotating This jam is generating with the motion I'm creating I'm the boy wonder, Tragic super duper Raised in the Bridge, cause I'm a Queensbridge trooper The rebel of the treble, the ebony prince '88 is on the way, I make a big difference I make it visual and intellectually clear (Tragedy) the Rebel is here [VERSE 2] Because I master great kicks turnin flesh to dust And knockin all boots is a definite must Cause I'm havoc, Trag, Tragedy tragic There are many ways to explain my magic The explanatory category best fits me Cause my lyrics are called sweet poetry And I'm sick of b-boys just hippin and hoppin it I have you sayin, "Damn boy, shorty be droppin it" Back in the '60s to know is to know it And I'm the last remaining of the world's last poets Talkologist, infinity from when I begin And to disapprove the Trag is a mortal sin Diabolical gangster, hoodlum and genius I write poetry when I find it convenient Snap a stage in half like a polo bear (Your Tragedy) the Rebel is here [VERSE 3] I drop words you won't find in a dictionary I write rhymes to improve my vocabulary Drama, Art, English education And I'm the man, I design the animation Mentally and with jock control The equalizer rises up on your FM mode And which I use with telepath And it's (Tragedy) who's on your phonograph I confuse your conscience, and boggle your brain You may think that I'm sick, but I'm perfectly sane I design my rhymes with architectural construction But that's another story, a different function You see, it's mandatory to embold fear (Tragedy) the Rebel is here [VERSE 4] The rap automatical, the rhymatical Forget ill, I get illmatical Biceps pulsating in my lungs Queensbridge Projects is where I'm from Wicked like a witch doin sorcery With a book and a pen, and my m-i-c The outstanding ovation when things get drastic You keep fantasizin while I'm fantastic Black magic flowin smooth but strong And I'll have you rockin and shockin... Swing this episode to the Cormega Posse My man from Uptown Joe the Boss down with the Mutant Posse To my right-hand MC MC [Name] To Big Daddy Kane My man Nut and Cool [Name] Down with the Supreme Team in Jamaica Can't forget the 40 Busters My man Darryl gettin paid on the dime |
||||||
4. |
| - | ||||
5. |
| - | ||||
(feat. Master Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane)
[Verse 1: Master Ace] Listen closely, so your attention's undivided. Many in the past have tried to do what I did. Just the way I came off, man I'm gonna come off. Stronger and longer, even with the drum off. I keep on goin' and flowin' just like a river. I got a whole lot to give so I'm-a give a little at a time, new trails are blazin', Action is in effect, and always stays in. Yeah, just like a shot from a cannon. I am the man in charge and I've been plannin' a jam strong enough that it can life your soul. I'm the originator, and my rhymes are made of gold. Once you hear the capital "A" rap, it'll stay with you for awhile, it won't go away. Unless you force it, because it stays with you, my friend, and if you toss it away, I'm-a hit ya again. I project my voice so it's right in the crowd. There's a sign at the door: no bitin' allowed. And if you didn't read it I suggest you do so, or you'll be stranded, just like Caruso. Sleep if ya wanna, go 'head, get some shut-eye. A man broke his jaw tryin' to say what I say on the microphone, you shoulda left it alone, just for the record, let it be known that my ego's only partially grown. And never will I ever condone biting in any form, yo I'm only warm. That verse was the calm, now here's the storm... Next up (Yo, I believe that's me). Craig G, light up the mic for the Symphony. [Verse 2: Craig G] This jam is dedicated to all un-optimistics that though I wasn't coming out with some exquisite rhymes. But that's alright, cuz now I'm back to kill all the rumors and straighten the facts of me not rockin' rhymes like I always used to, but you jumped on hte tip when you heard me and the Juice Crew. You said, "Mmm mmm mmm, ain't that somethin? Yo Craig, I head you in that jam, and it's pumpin'! I apologize. Oh yeah, and uh, can I have your autograph for me and my grandma?" That's how I'm livin': all surprise mode. Don't even sleep, try not to keep your eyes closed. Cuz if you do, when you awaken, your so-called spot will be taken. I'll take you over like a greedy executive, cuz on the mic my prospective is to be the best in all rap events, and since I have a call, I call experience. Next up...(Yo, I believe that's me) Kool G Rap, light up the mic for the Symphony... [Verse 3: Kool G Rap] Yo, Marley gives the slice, I get nice, and my voice is twice as horrifying as Vincent Price goes deep, till you fell in a spell of a sleep, and while I'm countin' the money, you count sheep. When G Rap strikes the mic, I recite the type of hype that you like, and make the people unite. I grip up hips and zip up lips, step on reps, you flip and wanna sip on my tip. Take a deep breath, because you don't have another left. Comin' back like I'm avengin' my brother's deat. Makin' veterans run for medicine, cuz I put out more lights in a fight than ConEdison. Rip the damn cage like I'm on a rampage. And if you want rage, I'm-a make front page. Read the headlines, suckers, todays the deadline, your head is way past bedtime. Can't kill though. Solo. Cuz you're still all...soft like a pillow. My rap is rougher than Brillo. So fear me, don't dare dare me, and don't compare me to him when you hear me. Talk about a battle but you ain't yet ready for war. Your metaphor sucks more than a whore. You can't replace me, ice me or ace me, bass me, face me, slice me or race me, bite me or taste me -- I'll show you that I got force. My rap burns your mouth like hot sauce. Run for water while I break your tape recorder. Server-to-sucker: the order is manslaughter. Another rapper, G Rap wrecks, he's rated X, to mean the boy is sex. Next... the amplifier gets used and abused. Pumps so loud, we might blow a fuse. This is anger, madness, ready to hang 'er. Rapper or singer: I'm puttin' up my middle finger. Next up... (I believe that's me) Big Daddy Kane, get on the mic for the Symphony. [Verse4: Big Daddy Kane] Settin' it off, lettin' it off, beginnin'. Rough to the endin', you never been in to move the groove with the smooth rap lord; like a bottle of juice, rhymes are being poured. Down your ear, crisp and clear, as I prepare to wear, tear and smear - then I'm outta here. With a mark left that you can all cling. Cuz rockin' a party? Yo, it's a small thing. I rip many places on regular basis, and broken down mics were the only traces that I'd been there and there at the party. The mic had my prints, and on it was a body. So take caution. I'm not horsin' around in a throwdown, clown, I'm takin' yours son. So just acknowledge the way that I kick it, cuz if rap was a house, you'd be evicted. And dismissed from the microphone, chokin' on a bone, cuz Daddy's home. And battlin' me is hazardous to health, so put a quarter in your ass, cuz ya played yourself Like a game in the arcade. You need a far aid. I'm walkin' the path that Allah made. I'll attend and then begin to send a speech to reach and teach, so just say when. So I can let lyrics blast like a bullet. My mouth is the gun; on suckers I pull it. The trigger, ya figure, my pockets gettin' bigger, cuz when it comes to money, yo, Grant's my nigga! You've got the groove, MCs, freeze, stand still, nobody move. It's a sabotage, as I take charge. Don't barge, cuz gotdamn, I'm livin' large like a giant. You're nothin' but a midget, a small digit. You ain't hit it, forget it, quit it. I reign superior, always takin' care o'ya. No-frill rappers, you will evaporate, disintegrate, deflate to your fate, as the great will dominate straight to the state of reignin', gainin. So put Kane in, that category. Period. End of story... |
||||||
6. |
| - | ||||
(feat. Tragedy)
(Live moti-) (live motivator) [x4] [VERSE 1] I have the mind of a sick psychiatric Protegees perish with my tactics Terminate, excel, I bust brain cells I'm international, my name ring bells Define definitions like a dictionary Impulse impact, cause I'm a visionary Tragedy elevates to the exterior Imperial superior, you're inferior Intelligent trooper, I detect And I design paragraphs like a architect Spittin fire like a serpent, lyrical merchant Translatin transcripts, and I interpret Their level of progression, born to detour Able to lift a ton of lyrics like a 4x4 Paragraph professor, strong metaphor Pumpin bass like a Bertha, talkologist inserter Torture, slaughter - then I murder Gladiator rebel, trained to cause havoc The microphone manipulator, and I'm Tragic Science is dropped when times are convenient I label the lyricist a form of genius Rhymin is a skill, the source is energetic My techniques are brilliant, and I'm hyperkinetic Individual intelligent, concept navigator Tragedy, the Live Motivator [VERSE 2] Recite rhymes like a poet use the pen for my endurance Techniques are abusive, so is my performance Record rotating, life is is motivating The master of lyricists, rhymes coordinating Einstein of lyrics, mad psychopath Rather listen to the Trag on your phonograph Original Asiatic, rhymatical mechanic Jettin like a Uzi ammunated automatic On the strenght, I'm terrific, rhymes are hieroglyphic Use a potion in a motion, my brain is scientific Rhymatical motivating, chief-annihilating The lyrical poet be your exterminating Born to destroy, talkologist terminator The rebel of the treble, the Motivator [VERSE 3] Rock a jam and emotion elevate and increase Jettin words by the syllable, piece by piece Pronounciation is related, rhymes are updated Don't let your kids listen, cause I'm x-rated Intelligent Hoodlum, brain mutulator I.Q. of a genius - the Motivator Let's do this, Brutus, prototype inspiration Rhymes inject turbo motivation Deep dialogue, the poetical You can't deal with the rhymin energetical Sound captivated, rhyme activated I rock even better when I'm stimmulated Attack like a pitbull, physically brutal You can't hang, cause you're soft as a poodle I'm debonnaire, poetically charmed I can go through several battles, and still remain calm Got a strain on the brain, I'm here to gain I stimmulate ya like a sniff of cocaine 40 dog buster, I'm here to thrust a On lyrics a definite must, a Papermate prosecutor, the executor Process the data like a computer Proceed with the topic, I came to drop it Don't try to stand in my way, you can't stop it Marley Marl, pick up the crossfader Tragedy, the Live Motivator |
||||||
7. |
| - | ||||
(feat. Craig G)
(I don't even remember how this happened) (The Crew will not understand it) (Duck Alert) (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (Yee-ee-aah) (The Crew will not understand it) [VERSE 1] Yo, this jam is dedicated to you, boy, just listen Take off your coat, get in a fit position Cause I'm about to burn you at 45 Fahrenheit You're jealous of the crew, that's why you're starin, right? Forget the answer, the situation's obvious When this is over, let's see who feels the sorriest You'll be like, "Damn Craig, why did you play me, yo?" And then you realize we're toppin rap radio Cause it's no game, boy, you can't do work Marley, please tell us his name (Duck Alert) (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (Duck Alert) (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (Has your crew suddenly become interested in promoting a war?) [VERSE 2] Now our crew is broken down into a large amount of channels And not one of us can you handle On the mic Magic, on the tables Marley And when it comes to bein dope, don't ask: are we? Cos our style is different, or should I say irregular? And if you wanna get all hype, I'll have to settle ya By pullin out my 12-gauge shotgun And if you wanna go rhyme for rhyme, I got some Dope rhymes for sure, or should I say galore? But I won't sound old-schoolish, in other words foolish I have a question now: who feels hurt? Marley, do you have the answer? (Duck Alert) Thank (yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (Yee-ee-aah) (What happened between us, was for us alone) (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (I am speaking to you from the Bridge) (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (Yeeeeeeh) [VERSE 3] After this, I hope you get someone to battle me But make sure this person has originality That's right, original, yeah, you heard me I don't want his beats soundin like Hurby's Oops - I mean Marley, cause Hurb's a beat-biter I don't know where the both of you get the right to Come in the industry, steal someone's property And some of you, forbid, start clocking's Now that's not fair, Marley's the rightful owner Yet you still treat him like he's a blood-doner So now it's time to have revenge to all you jerks Especially who, Marley? (Duck Alert) That's right (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (I am speaking to you from the Bridge) (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (Yee-ee-aah) (You're from where?) [VERSE 4] Ehm - at the final stage, cut the scratches Marley Marl? I think no one can match his Cuttin ability on the 1200s And many listeners, they often wonder (Yo man, was that a tape?!) Nah, never in a milion years You see, the liveness gives us the feelin we're Bein accepted as true entertainers And it will stay that way for the remainder Of the century, that's how it's meant to be You don't believe me? You will eventually Because the situation, boy, you can't divert Escpecially who, Marley? (Duck Alert) Ah-ha (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (Duck Alert) (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (Duck Alert) (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (Duck Alert) (Yee-ee-aah) (Duck Alert) (Duck Alert) (Yee-ee-aah) (Eat your ass up) (I don't even remember how this happened) (Eat your ass up like a steak ???) (The Crew will not understand it) (Eat your ass up like a steak ???) (The Crew will not understand it) (Eat your ass up like a steak ???) (Has your crew suddenly become interesed in promoting a war?) (Eat your ass up) (Eat your ass up) (What happened between us, was for us alone) (Eat your ass up) (Eat your ass up like a steak ???) (I am speaking to you from the Bridge) (Eat your ass up) (I am speaking to you from the Bridge) (Eat your ass up like a steak ???) (From where? From the Bridge) |
||||||
8. |
| - | ||||
(feat. Master Ace)
(Let's play a little game) (Okay, I'm loosin up now) (Aw - there it is!) (I've waited long enough) Bust a move, let's play a little Simon Says So take your places and listen to the rhymin as I like display a new style that just may Leave suckers runnin for the door in total dismay Yeah, by now, so you're startin to Get a little hype, but first get a partner And proceed full speed right to the dance arena I really doubt it, but maybe by chance you seen a- Nother brother more inclined to play the part of Simon Than the Master Ace who knows the art of rhymin Like a shark knows the finer points of swimmin Like Steady Pace know the cuts and the fly women And so before we start this game Simon says: get up, and yo, I do the same (Let's play a little game) Now Simon says: look deep into your partner's eyes (Let's play a little game) Look at your partner from head to toe (Let's play a little game) And all those good parts in between, you know (Let's play a little game) Simon says: it gets badder, and you never had a Beat that can heat your feet, and still add a Theme with so much steam, it makes sweat pour From your faces, and the Ace is sure Gonna do it, as you listen to it See, I navigate ya straight to help through it I'm Simon, rhymin, climbin on time, and On a mission, that's the position that I'm in Takin you there, makin you care I'm achin to tear up the floor, but I don't dare Leave the mic sittin, gettin cold without my hand on Those that dance don't have a foot to stand on And those that don't dance, yo, you oughta know Simon says: wall flowers aren't allowed to grow (Let's play a little game) Now Simon says: close your eyes And imagine your partner totally unclothed (Let's play a little game) Nude, in the butt, bare to the flesh Now get as close as you can to your partner And without touching him, move your body to the rhythm (Let's play a little game) Simon takes the stand, just as planned And I display in a ray that's rather grand Now I agree, there are many who said 'party's off' But if one of them says, he drops arty soft See to drop hard you must have the kind of mind That's refined and artistically lined Cause yo, it takes nack if you wanna attack Attract with such skill, and still fit the bill Ace and Action, few can come harder Than we come, uhm - here's some, but only part of The gift that can lift the myth that is swift Only boast the most, yo, Simon says: if If your partner's face is in place with your taste Then haste, you better push up, no time to waste So if you're with it, you better get it, don't try to sit it On a chair and stare like a square, brother, quit it There's no time for nerds and geeks, only freaks With the sexy cheeks, as the Master speaks And for weeks and weeks you will dance and prance To the rhythm I enhance with my chants So here's a glance at a jam that'll nullify And fry all the rest, bust the color Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, in the gold and violet This jam is fly, and I'm the pilot Flyin you straight to the end of the rainbow Steady and I try to open your brain, so You can accept what was carefully kept Till the fun stops, then the party was pepped Up, and if you stepped up, you couldn't hold your place in a chair So hail Simon, the brother Master Ace in the rear Simon says: yeeeaah... (Let's play a little game) Now Simon says: put your right hand on your partner's shoulder And put your left hand on your partner's waist (Let's play a little game) Now move your hips rhythmatically (Let's play a little game) Now the climax... Simon says: touch your partner's body Touch your partner's body In every way imaginable Yeah Do the nasty (Let's play a little game) I wanna say what's up to my DJ Steady Pace Sha-Born the technician Ray for real Eye-Cu Rock and the rest of the Action Posse Special thanks to DJ Marley Marl And Tim Westwood rockin things out in U.K. (Okay, I'm loosin up now) Peace, world (Let's play a little game) (Aw - there it is!) |
||||||
9. |
| - | ||||
(feat. M.C. Shan)
[Verse 1] It's Shan's what I'm called, I stand tall and brave And me and Marley Marl is as close as a shave My rhymes lock jaw like a pitbull bite Suckers always try to sleep on me cause I look light See, a lotta wack rappers try to rack their brains To feel a style of MC, come on, break these chains Speak now or hold your peace when I decide to pass it But every rhyme you ever had could never surpass this If rhymes were food, the main source for livin You would swear that every line of my rhyme was thanksgiving I don't bite styles, weak rhymes, I don't need em Stop jockin me, boy, give me my freedom [Verse 2] I wanna break away clean, I mean virtually spotless And all year long I been schemin and plottin this If beats were cakes, then my rhymes'd get frosted This is '88 and I still ain't lost it For all of those who still got a doubt in their mind There ain't a rapper livin bad enough to take mine There ain't no studio-illusion and no scratch-syncin Stop - if that's what you're thinkin Write rhymes simultaneously, say em in pairs And I would hate to have a rapper proclaim it theirs Instead in comin in a limo, bring a casket and hearse Before we speak we'll hear the preacher from the deacon first We won't be gathered that day to unite no couple up Marley, are we gettin this on tape? (Yup) All you dirty low-down better slow down faster Your technique isn't good enough to hang with the master I don't bite styles, weak rhymes, I dont need em Stop jockin me, boy, jockin me, son, jockin me, punk Jockin me, kid, give me my, give me my, give me my freedom [Verse 3] I'm the opposite of what you say a slob is Dumpin suckers off is exactly what my job is I'm feared like Napoleon and blessed like Buddah You couldn't face me solo, you'd have to bring your crew to Dump me off, I don't recollect the mumble I ain't soft, homeboy, and picture me crumble And forget all of those that don't like my rap I don't be kickin that old shooby-dooby-doo-wop crap Rappers often brag about their bitin deejay But they can't do Marley nothin, no how, so hey It's clear to the ear what I'm sayin, son That's why we feel like slaves on the freedom run And each and every time a wack rapper walks by me His head starts singin: Come on and fly me... I don't bite styles, weak rhymes, I don't need em Stop jockin me, boy, jockin me, son, jockin me, punk Jockin me, kid, give me my freedom [Verse 4] We can do this like Brutus, I'm not mad, I'm pissed This parade of mine I doubt that you can rain on this You couldn't place my rhymes amongst mortal men When I be rhymin on beats that set the hip-hop trend I will always exist because I'm bein preserved Don't agree to set me free, then you gotta be served I earned a name amongst society as lyrically ill But yet I'm loyal, see, cause marley hooks the beat up still There's no way that you could say there's a day I'd fess Hamana-hamana-nothin, you can kill that mess My rhymes are ruthless, no heart, and totally wretched And if they was to fall down then the beats would catch it I don't bite styles, weak rhymes, I don't need em Stop jockin me, boy, jockin me, son, jockin me, punk Jockin me, kid, give me my, give me my, give me my freedom |
||||||
10. |
| - | ||||
Disc 2 | ||||||
1. |
| - | ||||
2. |
| - | ||||
3. |
| - | ||||
4. |
| - | ||||
5. |
| - | ||||
6. |
| - | ||||
7. |
| - | ||||
8. |
| - | ||||
9. |
| - | ||||
10. |
| - | ||||
11. |
| - | ||||
12. |
| - | ||||
13. |
| - | ||||
14. |
| - | ||||
15. |
| - | ||||
16. |
| - | ||||
17. |
| - | ||||
18. |
| - | ||||
(feat. Tragedy, King Tee, Grand Puba, Def Jef, Chubb Rock)
[Chorus] Keep control... [Tradegy the Intelligent Hoodlum] When I made arrest the president, America ate me Spoke the truth that the gov't hates me They labeled me a prejudice poet I'm speaking the truth as I know it I hold on but it's hard for me to handle Too much lies, corruption and scandal Cops want to kill a brother or two Who do you call when the gang wears blue I ain't going out like an Uncle Tom man My gun is loaded and I'm itching to pull the trigger I'm marking for death as a funky rhyme sayer Corruption flows from the cops to the mayor Mali troops will run through your resident In my hand will be the head of your president All you fess that made a check to throwdown Will rise up for a political showdown [Chorus] [King Tee] Yo, King Tee stepping in on a dark tip Open your eyes and your mind and get a grip Of the ropes and chains that kept us Since we were black they didn't want to except us But it's ok, I got my own plan 'Cause yo, I ain't down wit your program The natives cook, wash and clean And to the rubbers that throw in the scene M-A-N-D-E-L-A Now you got a chance to hear what he say Since they kept him locked up for so long 'Cause his skin was black and his mind was strong But we need to all stand together though And let the red, black and green show Become aware of yourself before it gets too late Another message from King Tee the great [Chorus] [Grand Puba] Yo bust it Hung wit the flip, got a ?dooby? wig Now she thinks she's all that shit, her man got zits Hon living lovely, Miss Gouchi Even got a Benz when she drives around wit all her friends Ugn, miss quick fast in a heedy Speedy, speedy, speedy, the bitch is greedy Spend so fast, she got caught wit 4 kids And the man caught a nice thick bitch Now the bitch is on skid Screaming how she hates her kids The move for the bitch is a thing quick and easy Think slick, she better get wit the wick 'Cause foul, foul, foul is your style You tried to run the race but you lost by a mile See it everyday, it's the same old sorry song How long must this go on [Chorus] [Def Jef] Power now or never, together forever And ever, sever make it endever To enlight your brother when I recommend to extend a hand Expand it then wish strength to fend Black women and men from the white power structure They stucked ya in, stoled your culture and fuked ya And you gave birth to a nation You freelabel laid America's economic foundation Blood, sweat and tears and fear for years But now here was a peer to give you shift in the gears The turn of the tables, knowledge and ables Us to escape the sterotype wit the labels And years of classroom fables, fiction Fallacies all sorts and fabrications ?For sarge? even fuss Star Spangled story, stigma and stunts [Chorus] [Chubb Rock] I know this 11 year old kid named Jeffery Cowen And knowing his father slowing And his mother is hoeing And now should he be growing He's too young to be sewing He should just chill and be flowing I know he was being malested and sold And his mom for being infected Never check it, so I invested My time and made sure little bro was looked at Pops got evicted, not a smack Pumped his fists and being that I'm a ?fugiless? The bum got done by the one And little Jeffery, no more tears left and drip Mixed wit seaman on his lip, emotional trip It confuses and bent ill thoughts In the soul of the youngster Is daddy a monster That raw creates lip songs and heartache pain Drys and open your eyes for the insane [Chorus] |
||||||
19. |
| - | ||||
20. |
| - | ||||