Artist: Kid Cudi f/ Kanye West, Common
Album: The Man on the Moon: The End of the Day
Song: Make Her Say
Verse:
Me first…heh!
Uh, uh-uh, she wanna have whatever she liiiike (liiiiiike)
She can if she bring her friiiiiend (friiiiiend)
and we can have one hell of a niiiiight, through the day
Ay, I mean starin like a creeper ’cause you got a peep ‘er
I mean you pro’lly might be sayin you ain’t jockin either
But man, ol’ girl got a fat ol’ ass
Yeah, the type to make you tell a bitch +Just Dance+
And FUCK them other niggaz ’cause you down for her bitches
FUCK them other niggaz ’cause she down for the stickin
And FUCK them other niggaz, hope she down for some lickin
And FUCK them other bitches ’cause she down for the trickin
Loooove, I’m hopin she a rider
When it’s said and done, hope she spit it up and swallow noooooow
I ain’t gotta trip about the niggaz who like her
’cause me and mami know who could really make her goooooo…

Artist: Do or Die f/ Tung Twista, Johnny P
Album: Picture This
Song: Po Pimp
Lyrics:
Well a motherfucker might be broke and shit
and then collecting no dough from tips
But I be spittin mo’ game than a mouthful of poker chips
to get them hoes with the Oprah lips and the provokin hips
and never gotta tell her many lies
I been lookin in the city skies, get up in the kitty’s thighs
cause I’m blessed with a look of innocence, good sex
peanut butter complex and some pretty eyes
Pity cries on my strategy side, yo when outta me gotta be
right, that’d be the flatter me right
But if the head the bonk c’mon suck a nigga dick
Members of my click, wanna see what that’d be like
I know you wanna try it out, to the rhythm of a high hat
Don’t be bogus and deny that
I done got a hold of dem my fellas on the train
while she lie back, now motherfucker can you buy that?
Where your ride at?
On the passenger side of your hoe
tryin ta come up on another G
The broad all up under me tryin ta smother me
Lookin love-ly while I roll another bead, suddenly
She learned that I don’t deal with emotions
But when we in the room she rubbin me with lotion
Comin like an ocean coastin have a cig thinking
me and Do or Die dig drinkin love potion
The word that was never said
Twisted be givin women dick in the bed, until they sick in the head
And if I ever leave whoever dead
They ain’t trickin the Feds or spittin game but it’s chicken and bread
Kickin them legs in the air like a playa do
Then belittle in a day or two
After words I’ma slay a crew
Now that’s some pimp type shit that B-Low and AK’ll do
Wearing gray and blue
If a hoe wanna holler then you a playa if you hit them ends
and get the dividends
But you a pimp if you can get the same hoe to wanna freak your friends
Cause I studied P-I, M-P, ology, but logically
Be learnin these hoes biology, obviously, well…

Artist: Master P f/ Mia X
Album: Ice Cream Man
Song: Bout It, Bout It II
Lyrics:
I represent, its 1990-skrilla
It’s Master P and they labeled me a drug dealer
Cause I’m bout it, I mean I’m rowdy
I hang with these killas that everyone talk about
we doin’ this, we doin’ that (we doin’ what)
we in the studio rippin’ up dope tracks
Cause we real, you betta guard your grill
Cause if we bout it, bout it
if you ain’t bout it, bout it you might get killed
I represent (T-R-U) where them killas at
3rd Ward, uptown, Calliope on the map
Back up off me, ain’t no softy
betta guard your grill mothafuckas, we comin’ hard G
I got killas in the projects sellin’ water
I got niggas from New Orleans to Florida
bout it bout it (bout it, bout it)
I mean they rowdy, rowdy (mean they rowdy, rowdy)
you betta watch your shit cause niggas is bout it bout it
I mean they snatch you out your car on a kidnap
lay you on the floor and tell you
bitch you betta break off some snaps or dead
put the pistol to your head
ain’t no love where I’m from, but you niggas in the grave
I mean they dyin’, I mean they fryin’
gone off that juice (fermalgahide) and leave their mothers cryin’
cause their little boy is dead
cause that color blue or red
and wanta do waht them other ballas said
to make some snaps, I mean to make some money
to break it up on the street, but this game ain’t funny
you want that beat in, ain’t no way out
but death or that mothafuckin’ jailhouse
if you bout it, say you bout it
I roll with some niggas that are bout it bout it
I mean we rowdy, rowdy, them niggas bout it, bout it
bounce, bounce, bounce fool, if you bout it, bout it

Artist: Bone Thugs-N-Harmoney
Album: Creepin’ On Ah Come Up
Song: Foe Tha Love Of $
Lyrics:
I’m given uo love to the hustlas
All them St.Clair thugstas makin’ that money stayin’ on your feet
And you better believe gotta have that cheese
For the green leaves, never catch me sleep
Stay on the grind, get mine
Stayin’ down for mine crime, and I hit up the nine-nine
Givin’ up that llelo, makin’ me sale, twenties nickles and dimes
Beat up and stick up a lick up, that two-eleven
Gotta get what’s mine, then bailin’
Me kickin’ up dust, I’m trailin
Feelin one-eight-seven
That’s how it is, and I gotsta have it in the nine-quat
Mission to check a mill and still be real
Thuggin’ on the glock-glock,creepin on a come up
Won’t sleep till I’m done up
Gotta blaze me blunt up, hunt up another plot and scheme
Gotta make some green, cause soldiers nut up, What up?
Gotta get that buisness on, even though the buddah run me, stun me
Feelin’ lovely, but I’m just in it for he love of the money

Artist: Kris Kross
Album: Totally Krossed Out
Song: Jump
Lyrics:
Don’t try to compare us to another bad little fad
I’m the Mac and I’m bad give you something that you never had
I’ll make ya Jump Jump wiggle and shake your rump
Cause I’ll be kicking the flavor that makes you wanna Jump
How high? Real high
Cause I’m just so fly
A young loveable, hugable type of guy
And everything is the back with a little slack
And inside-out is wiggida wiggida wack
I come stompin’ with somethi’ to keep you jumpin
R&B abd bullcrap is what I’m dumpin’
And ain’t something about Kris Kross we all that
So when they ask do they rock say believe that

Artist: Conscious Daughters
Album: Ear to the Street
Song: We Roll Deep
Lyrics:
Don’t you get too close ho
But get a taste of the mack flow
The shit kickin, pistol whippin, young ass mic pro
CMG is funky when she grip on the mic
See& killin off them hookers, and heavies and hoes softly
Funky lil child reign born supreme
Like a queen
Devout us backhanded bitch
To hit the rap scene
Takin niggas like that
Cause I do work too
And I’m doing dirt
So be alert when I comin through
Still mackin and pimpin and fuckin around
Servin up shit when we hit with the conscious sound
So know you what’s the time when we hit the set
Servin all you suckers so you never forget
We roll deep

Artist: Naughty by Nature
Album: Naughty by Nature
Song: O.P.P.
Lyrics:
OPP, how can I explain it
I’ll take you frame by frame it
To have y’all jumpin’ shall we singin’ it
O is for Other, P is for People scratchin’ temple
The last P…well…that’s not that simple
It’s sorta like another way to call a cat a kitten
It’s five little letters that are missin’ here
You get on occassion at the other party
As a game ‘n it seems I gotta start to explainin’
Bust it
You ever had a girl and met her on a nice hello
You get her name and number and then you feelin’ real mellow
You get home, wait a day, she’s what you wanna know about
Then you call up and it’s her girlfriend or her cousin’s house
It’s not a front, F to the R to the O to the N to the T
It’s just her boyfriend’s at her house (Boy, that’s what is scary)
It’s OPP, time other people’s what you get it
There’s no room for relationship there’s just room to hit it
How many brothers out there know just what I’m gettin’ at
Who thinks it’s wrong ‘cos I’m splittin’ and co-hittin’ at
Well if you do, that’s OPP and you’re not down with it
But if you don’t, here’s your membership

Artist: Akinyele /f. Kia Jefferies
Album: Put It In Your Mouth 12″
Song: Put It In Your Mouth
Lyrics:
You wanna go down why not
I be like Herbie and Hand-you-a-Cock
And tell you that my name is Ak’
Get on your kness, make like the breeze begin to blow
But don’t give me no Ralph Lauren grin
If you’re not down to go low (deep in my mouth)
I’m all about mouth fuckin
only if you down for dick suckin
if not, be chair and a beer…keep truckin
and fuck chapsticks
I’m comin ashy as hell, wit chapped dicks
for your chapped ass lips (down in my mouth)
creamin your teeth like dentists as I’m rubbin them
With an erection like injections, fuck it I be druggin them
Numbing up your tonsils, like ambesol anesthetic
Cummin down your throat like chloraseptic (take it out my mouth)
No time for apologin.. girlfriend if you..
swallowin {gurgle}.. garglin
I’m givin bitches permanent beards
Put your lips here and catch these damn facial hairs
in your mouth

Artist: Eric B and Rakim
Album: Follow the Leader
Song: Microphone Fiend
Lyrics:
I was a fiend before I became a teen
I melted microphone instead of cones of ice cream
Music orientated so when hip-hop was originated
Fitted like pieces of puzzles, complicated
‘Cause I grabbed the mic and try to say, ” Yes y’all!”
They tried to take it, and say that I’m too small
Cool, ‘Cause I don’t get upset
I kick a hole in the speaker, pull the plug, then I jet
Back to the lab …without a mic to grab
So then I add all the rhymes I had
One after the other one, then I make another one
To dis the opposite then ask if the brother’s done
I get a craving like I fiend for nicotine
But I don’t need a cigarette, know what I mean?
I’m raging, ripping up the stage and
Don’t it sound amazing ’cause every rhyme is made and
Thought of, Cuz it’s sort of…an addiction,
Magnatized by the mixing
Vocals, vocabulary, your verses, you’re stuck in
The mic is a drano, volcanoes erupting,
Rhymes overflowing, gradually growing
Everything is written in the cold, so it can coin-
cide, my thoughts to guide,
48 tracks to slide
The invincible, microphone fiend Rakim
Spread the word, ’cause I’m in
E-F-F-E-C-T
A smooth operator operating correctly,
But back to the problem, I gotta habit,
You can’t solve it, silly rabbit
The prescription is a hypertone that’s thorough when
I fiend for a microphone like herion
Soon as the bass kicks, I need a fix
Gimme a stage and a mic and a mix
And I’ll put you in a mood or is it a state of
unawareness? Beware, it’s the reanamator!
A menace to a microphone, a lethal weapon
An assasinator, if the people ain’t stepping
You see a part of me that you never seen
When I’m fiending for a microphone, I’m the microphone fiend…

Artist: The Dogg Pound f/ Snoop
Album: Dogg Food
Song: New York, New York
Lyrics:
It’s the incredible, the lyrical
You can’t be me like Niece, to see me is gonna take a miracle
I’m driving motherfuckers hysterical, with a
touch of this twister, stylistic mixture
What I create pulsates, there is no escape
Annihilate your mental mindstate
Dre labels my vocabulary abusive
I packs more knowledge than Confuscius, I’m deadly
Induce you like Medusa, with thoughts to shed
And niggaz throughout this hemisphere, far and near
Prepare, catch me chillin like the winter
Up against the number one contender, as I enter
Cause I gets heated like friction
Motherfuck your whole jurisdiction, react this fact not fiction
Telepathic addiction, to this homicidal recital
Dangerous and vital to all my rivals
Suicidal, brainwaves conveys
To the average motherfucker’s minds these days
I’m all ready to put work in
Take ten steps and turn to shoot the first nigga smirkin
Give a FUCK, what’s your name, what you claim
Or why you came, motherfucker don’t explain
Simply, don’t tempt me, cause I’m simply
Layin hoes lifes empty, the invicible MC