Big L:
I drink Moet not Becks beer, I stay dressed in slick gear
Peace to my homies in the gangsta lean, I see you when I get there
And its a fact I keep a gat in my arm reach
I charm freaks and bomb geeks from here to Palm Beach
Im 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 cant kill me I was born dead
And Im known to pull steel trigs and kill pigs
I run with ill kids and real nigs who peel wigs
My raps steady slammin, I keep a heavy cannon
Its a new sherriff in town, and it aint Reggie Hammond
2Pac:
Now shits constantly hot, on my block, it never fails to be gunshots
Cant explain a mothers 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 systems suicidal with this Thugs Life
Staying strapped forever trapped in this drug life
God help me, cause Im starving, cant get a job
So I resort to violent robberies, my life is hard
Cant 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
Cant help but feel hopeless and heartbroke
From the start I felt the racism cause Im dark
Couldnt 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 rappers hearts pumpin like Reeboks
And every year I gain clout and my name sprouts
Some brothersd 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
Im 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 Im not a rookie
I got girls that make that chick Toni Braxton look like Whoopie
I run with sturdy clicks Im never hittin dirty chicks
Got thirty-five bodies, Buddy dont 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 dont know about your stress-filled day
Baby on the way mad bills to pay
Thats why you drink Tanqueray; so you can reminisce
And wish, you wasnt livin so devilish, ssshit
I remember I was just like you
Smokin blunts with my crew, flippin over 62s
Cause G-E-D, wasnt B-I-G
I got P-A-I-D, thats 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 dont know will show on the autopsy
Went to see Papi, to cop me a brick
Asked for some consignment and he wasnt tryin to hear it
Smoking mad Newports cause Im 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 Im in it
The time is now, its 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 its all love, only love is your money
So when its over , are you a thug or a dummy
Im neither, but I been hot so long, it feels like I got a lifetime fever
And I aint gotta spit, I could cough and still eat ya
And f rap I make mills of reefer
Im a man first, tired of punchin z, so Imma 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, its hard to ace
.38 revolver flow, its hard to trace, what!
Fat Joe:
Nigga I can see the coke in your nose
This aint 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 Id much rather find a menage
And everybody talkin crazy how theyre AK spit
But we know this investigatin, and they aint spray shit
Not me, Im the truth homie, got the industry shook like
Naw nigga, Joe gonna let em loose on me
True Story, Im 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 Puns 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