oh man...you have no idea how many times my friends and I quote that shit. I know we look like dorks, but we just laugh our ass off.
"That what day be sayin'? 'Sky high'?"

"man, WHAT?!..you don't wanna get that 'kast? I thought it was yo boys, I thought it was yo folk"
"Nah, man...first they was playas man...then they was some aliens or genies or some shit...then they be talking about dat black rights in space, man...fuck that man, I ain't fuckin' wit' em no mo."

 

Sky hiiiiiiiii....sky hiii. Kim....bring that PIMPTRICKGANGSTACLICK CD out the back!

I met a gypsy and she hipped me to some life game
To stimulate then activate the left and right brain
Said baby boy you only funky as your last cut
You focus on the past your ass'll be a has what
Thats one to live by or either that one to die to
I try to just throw it at you determine your own adventure
Andre, got to her station here's my destination
She got off the bus, the conversation lingered in my head for hours
Took a shower kinda sour cause my favorite group ain't comin with it
But I'm witcha you cause you probably goin through it anyway
But anyhow when in doubt went on out and bought it
Cause I thought it would be jammin but examine all the flawsky-wawsky
Awfully, it's sad and it's costly, but that's all she wrote
And I hope I never have to float in that boat
Up shit creek it's weak is the last quote
That I want to hear when I'm goin down when all's said and done
And we got a new joe in town
When the record player get to skippin and slowin down
All yawl can say is them *****s earned that crown but until then...

------------------------
The common denominator, the ***** numerator
Never know who the hater, *****z cater to your ego
I'm sorry like Atari whose the cousin to Coleco.. Vision
caught a Rico, back on the street like Chico.. DeBarge
he large and got a 'Llac in the garage
Few parts here and there, I declare hard, my lawd
One at Clark, one at Spelman
Both know each other and it's cool, you can tell when
he step off in the party women jump for joy
But all the wild *****z scheamin they gon' jump the boy
for spittin all that bourgeoise, my watch, my car
I'm a star -- I'd rather be a comet by far -- rrrahhh!

Deliver this through your audio, ghetto mafioso
Grow hydro, then bag it up yo
Price that longevity, suggest make moves
slow take time grow eight, react nine blow
Hydro slide raw like fuck Renaldo
Fly ride though, shit lookin wild dope
then glide yo, flippin the page, I go
Watch five-oh, jump on my meat, ride slow
Watch those, undercovers, cop those, rock those
Glocks blows leave em baggy and collect spot grows
Keep a watch froze, lean on the yacht and wash clothes
Let the chop' blow, bag a half a block plot grows, what?


-------------------

My mind warps and bends floats the wind count to ten
meet the twin Andre Ben. welcome to the lion's den
original skin many men comprehend
I extend myself so you go out & tell a friend
Sin all depends on what you believing in
Faith is what you make it that's the hardest shit since MC Ren
Alien can blend right on in wit' yo' kin
look again 'cause I swear I spot one every now & then
It's happenin' again wish I could tell you when
Andre this is Andre y'all just gon' have to make amends

----------------------------

Now Suzy Skrew had a partna named Sasha (Sasha), Thumper (Thumper)
I remember her number like the summer
when her and Suzy yeah they threw a slumber - - party
but you can not call it that cause it was slummer
Well it was more like spend the night
Three in the morning yawnin dancin under street lights
We chillin like a villain and a ***** feelin right
in the middle of the ghetto on the curb, but in spite
all of the bullshit we on our back starin at the stars above
(aww man) Talkin bout what we gonna be when we grow up
I said what you wanna be, she said, "Alive" (hmm)
It made me think for a minute, then looked in her eyes
I coulda died, time went on, I got grown
Rhyme got strong, mind got blown, I came back home
to find lil Sasha was gone
Her mamma said she with a ***** that be treatin her wrong
I kept on singin my song and hopin at a show
that I would one day see her standin in the front row
But two weeks later she got found in the back of a school
With a needle in her arm, baby two months due, Sasha Thumper

-----------------------------

Baby did you hear that yea baby I heard it too
Look out the window golly the sky is electric blue
Mamma Earth is dyin and cryin because of you
Rainin cats and jackles all shackles disintegrate, to residue
Silly mortals haven't a clue
as to what the fuck is goin on
I'm on the telephone, dialin the Dungeon
"Hello?" This Dre, bring the MP and the SP
Meet me at the center of the earth and travel carefully
Baby grab the baby cause baby it ain't much time
Mamma Earth is tossin and turnin and that's our sign
Omega ***** IFO's are landin in Decatur
Hope I'm not over your head but if so you will catch on later
Play the track, guess she could not take it anymo'
Rapin her heavenly body like a hoe, coochie so'
from *****z constantly fuckin her never lovin her never showin
appreciation bustin nuts in her face when they done




dope.

 

Dope!
I love Tha Art of Storytellin' 2 intro...I use to play it over an over back in the day.

 

Yeah...I also love some of the lines in Dre's verse of Part 1.

Well it was more like spend the night
Three in the morning yawnin dancin under street lights
We chillin like a villain and a ***** feelin right
in the middle of the ghetto on the curb, but in spite
all of the bullshit we on our back starin at the stars above
(aww man) Talkin bout what we gonna be when we grow up
I said what you wanna be, she said, "Alive" (hmm)
It made me think for a minute, then looked in her eyes

But the first verse of part 2 is one of my faves.

 

yeah, I love that verse, too. Actually since this thread, I've been listening to ATLiens and Aquemini in the car. Man, everytime I listen to them, they get better and better.

Conceive true deception multiplied a million fold
Visualize the yin and yang in a battle so intense
that we get em confused
The resident evil specialize in misconstruing
We wanna be at a presidential level -- what are we doing?
Foolin ourself, clownin ourself, playin ourself
By not bein ourself
We can't babble no more than we can bob our head offbeat
Nimrod by the time we forty cause we can't get our meat
While we ask no reason for the misplacement of the season
look at the picture that's painted
Tainted as the mind who's blinded to the point
where Sodomites get all the rights
We fall for fights with fisticuffs
Get pissed enough to miss the bus
It disgusts me to see my folks run up on
I say stand up on deception of time all of Revelations
And recognize this mind on the reality of horror
known as mankind
Jesus and his twelve disciples make thirteen
A righteous number of righteous men
Even Judas the Betrayer came true in the end
The Devil say the end is the beginning
They teach that we were the product of incest
Invest no level of self into their system of Paganomics
Stand with us and don't look back upon it
Just face this mindstate
Otherwise Babylon...

(My memories of yesterday...)

[cut and scratched:] "Ninety-six gonna be that year..."

[Verse One: Andre]

I bet you never heard of a playa with no game
Told the truth to get what I want but shot it with no shame
Take this music dead serious while others entertain
I see they makin they paper so I guess I can't complain... or can I?
I feel they disrespectin the whole thang
Them hooks like sellin dope to black folks
And I choke when the food they serve ain't tastin right
My stomach can't digest it even when I bless it
I'm confessin one mo' lesson from the South we in the house tonight
Now hootie who wants to oppose? Suppose
We rolls through Headland and Delowe
where me and my *****z surpassed the flow
And got down for ours like hind catchers
My mind catches flashbacks to the black past
while my close *****z laugh at
The Southern slang, figure ways and mojo chicken wangs
I grew up on booty shake we did not know no better thang
So go 'head and, diss it, while real hop-hippers listen
Started by Afrikan Bambaata, so you and your potnah
Gather your thoughts

[Musical Interlude: Debra Killings]

(Something's gotta change
Songs of laughter and happiness comes from teardrops to rain
When daring despair, fortune may lead in my day
And slight breezes of longing finally move my way
Like memories of yesterday...)

[Verse Two: Big Boi]

Uhh, born Antwan Patton but my potnahs they call me Big Boi
It's the ***** the B-I-G, be speakin the truth not talkin that shit boi
I'm thinkin of checkin my traps and bustin my raps and throwin them craps
Seven-eleven is no convenience, you pumpin your gas, they're watchin yo' back
For the robbin crew, thinkin they robbin you, you must be cautious
To stand up on yo' game and pimpin these crows you must be flawless
Like Mortal Kombat, but fuckin these wombats got you dizzy
My ***** you know of I wanna be playin but runnin up on me like you miss me
You catchin the wrong vibe, packin yo' shit and rollin yo' eyes back
Flexin up on the corner tossin your dice and rollin your Cadillac
But man it seems I'm reachin out and touchin the wrong *****
Don't expect me to be pimpin get your index off the trigger
As we bust, us, we leavin em in the dust
So keep that clean up out of your nose I said my piece and then I hush
As the candidate keeps flippin... *****z dippin...

[Musical Interlude]

[Verse Three: Andre, Big Boi]

I really be love it we are gathered to life
So pissed to lather we come clean
Some issues need to be addressed like envelopes I mean
Oh like Liberty Bells yes them bullets keep on rangin
On fire like the Georgia mass choir we keep on sangin
Bringin our folks closer together cause they severed us from the get green
Light and we ain't gon' stop until we hit the big screen
Psych because no one is free when others are oppressed
So, we hit the stage and then we fly back to our nest
Growing old

Like some eagles, people don't understand
Just like their parents don't be carin
I'm speakin about you playin with that phony stuff you sharin
in your raps Mercedes Benz and all your riches
Thinkin you got it, but get it get it, but you ain't pimpin no bitches
Cause you flaw, in, fallin like leaves into driveways
Isn't it lovely smokin good and sloppy head on highways
Friday's are tight but Saturday just makes it old
When tonight's are hot warm enough to feed your soul
Growing old

[Musical Interlude 2X]
("96 gonna be that year...")

(Like memories of yesterday...)

[voice of Andre fades in]
see all them leaves must fall down, growin old

Fat titties turn to teardrops as fat ass turns to flab
Sores that was open wounds eventually turn to scab
Trees bright and green turn yellow brown
Autumn caught em, see all them leaves must fall down, growin old
[repeat 3X]

 

I also love this from Ova Da Wudz

Hootie hoo slapped ya boyz across the cheek wit Isotoners
And went to tell yo momma and yo pop that you was a goner
Tell em Big Boi did it; I swear that ***** be rhymin
Every lyric that he spit be turnin charcoals into Diamonds and Pearls
Girl when you givin up them draws, cause
I got a couple of *****z down the hall
That wanna hit it too, I'm not the type to be actin selfish
Set it out and let it out and I'll be right back just like Elvis
Cause the postman rings twice...
Hey Mr. Postman....

 

Me and everything around me, is unstable like Chernobyl
Ready to go at any moment, jumpin like a pogo stick
Life never lived up to my expectations, so I accept the patience
Expect the worse but now I'm pacin, back and forth
Inside I'm melting like water on wicked witches
A monster truck done came and ran over my picket fences
I had the best of life in my clinches but monkey wrenches was thrown
Like chairs kings sit on, my prayers seem to long
I fall asleep before the endin, don't even get to say Amen
I hope He understand I be on bended knees
At times, I think I'm crazy, so I say forget it
Or maybe it's the devil infiltrating and like Riddick...Bowe
I've been fighting this since them fetus days
I count from one to twenty, when I'm through, repeat the phrase
It's just a phase, it's gon all pass, but that gets old too
I'm weakening like a deacon doin dirt
What am I supposed to do?

 

You know it's that high guy, from East P.I.
Spittin the realness of reality, you mad at me
boi how you gonna handle me?
You want me to lolligag and talk that bullshit?
I refuse to play so I'm gon' speak that Southern good shit
That harder than yo' hood shit, lil' shit
that make y'all *****z think about the trigger
before you pull it, on liquor stores and banks
Them folks got more than enough bullets to put that ass
off in the slang, don't claim no gang, we the *****z
that did that "Ain't No Thang But a Chicken Wang"
But still though, how you gonna play a ***** like dildo
We OutKast til it's over, barbeque and never mildo
For real bro

Synthesizer, microwave me
Give me a drug so I can make seven babies
Pump my breasts up, can you suck the fat up
Please make my life appear
like ain't no such thing as bad luck
My, nose ain't right
Like I need a new one
Just take your pick, a yellow red
A black or a blue one
Virtual reality, virtual, BULLSHIT
Synthesizer preachers can reach you
up in the pulpit
Who a bitch?
Give me my gat so I can smoke this *****
Tell his mamma not to cry
because they can clone him quicker
than it took his daddy to make him
*****z bitin verbatim
Thought provokin records radio never played dem
Instant, quick grits, new, improved
Hurry hurry, rush rush, world on the move
Marijuana illegal but ciggarettes cool
I might LOOK kinda funny but I ain't no fool
Now if you wanna synthesize I emp-athize
Now if you wanna synthesize I emp-athize
But if you synthesize I will understand
your synthesizer man

 

Listen close, as life turns it's pages,
Makaveli here kickin' rhymes for the ages.
Seen things in stages,
Wise words spoken by sages,
From SkyTel to Blackberry pagers.
Your crew don't phase us,
We'll make you bustas pay us,
Run up in your spot like C.J. from San Andreas.

(Chorus)
I wrote this song a long time ago,
A real long time ago. Feel me!
I wrote this song a long time ago,
Was the dopest song I ever wrote... in '94.

What can a ***** do,
When half the people voted for George W.
Life's a bitch, cause George W., can't be true,
I wanna choke him, cause he's a snitch,
I'm talkin' bout George W. Smith, from city council,
He ran in '93 out in Oakland, you probabably didn't hear about him.

(Chorus)
I wrote this song a long time ago,
A real long time ago.
Way before Slim Shady was in demand,
Way before we dropped bologna on Afghanistan.
I wrote this song in '94.

How am I doin' this?

Look around the club,
See everyone in the place,
Showing Pac love,
Got a smile on my face.
The girl in the miniskirt, has bad taste,
Cause that shirt don't match,
There's a pudding stain on the back.
And what the fuck is that! It might be doo doo!

And you in the back you ain't shit,
You bought a Gin & Tonic but you didn't even tip.
And if you hit this table one more time,
Then the record might skip... might skip.
I told you, stop hittin' the table.

Tupac Shakur,
I wrote this rhyme in 1994.
I'm not alive!
Thug Life!
Dave Chappelle, that ain't your wife.
A married man, you got two kids ... Go Home!

(Chorus)
I wrote this song a long time ago,
A real long time ago.
Way before Beanie Sigel had to do a big,
Way before Dave Chappelle had two kids.
Don't give 'im no coochie.


Ok, I will.

 

agreed only southern rappers i knew were two live crew


p.s and the ghetto boys