Classic Quotables 2…

Classic 1:
Yo it's the starvin', happy Harlem, rap magician
chained underwater, in sixty seconds the body's missing
snake in the grass at six feet you can hear him hissin'
I got a problem with your mouth, so I don't listen
stress rap, you got one, I got five
you do yours, I do mine, but I'm still alive
they used to call me crazy joe, had a bazooka
now they can call me batman, beyond your maneuvers
shit, I'm Atoms Fam to the bone marrow
fuck a soul, even God knows this body is hollow
you love New York, but New York don't love you
you're just a toy with Lucille Ball's hairdo
on the mic it's all magic and I got short sleeves
and I'm just that nice, I might let you breathe
put a mic in front of me, and I'm gonna bless it
hummingbird style, seventy times in one second
hummingbird style, seventy times in one second
(Vast Aire, from Stress Rap, in Cannibal Ox’s The Cold Vein)

Classic 2:
The nigga don't get mad, I got mad styles of my own
And it's shown when my hands grip the chrome microphone
Verbally I catch bodies with cordless shotties
Intriguin emcees, I keep em trained like potties
I bomb facts, my sword is an axe
to split backs invisible, like dope fiend tracks
Sky's the limit, niggaz are timid, and nobody knows
How we move like wolfs in sheep clothes
Producin data, microchips or software
Undaground and off air, the Land of the Lost
Notorious henchman from the North
Strikin niggaz where the Mason-Dixon line crossed
(GZA, from Guillotinz (Swordz), in Raekwon’s Only Built 4 Cuban Linx)

Classic 3:
I'm the verbal-spit Smith Wesson, I unload
with sick spit that quick wick to split a split-second
Bomb with a lit wick expression
You here a tick tick then you testin..
My saliva and spit can split thread into fiber and bits
So trust me, I'm as live as it gets
Everybody claimin they the best and head the throne
since B.I.G is gone, if you ask me, they "Dead Wrong"
My flow is hotter than the flash from the click
When the hammer slaps the bullet on the ass from the clip
You wind up in a room full of my dawgs
I'll have you feeling like a fire hydrant in a room full of dogs
So come, come now, get pissed on, shitted on
Tough talk turns to, "Can't we all just get along"
You get blazed when the mic's off, shot when it's on
You probably ducked when they laid the gun shot in your song
My gun strrr-utters when it speaks to you
Utter shit to repeat to you
Nothing to clip, then give a speech to you
Me and Premier, we kind of the same in ways
We both speak with our hands in dangerous ways
Rap now is a circus of clowns
A whole lot of lip from clicks I'll probably rap circles around
I'm the next best to reach a peak formerly known
as the best keep secret, I guess that I just leaped it
(Royce Da 5'9, from Boom, in Royce Da 5'9’s Rock City)