X gonna give it to you.

X gonna give it to you.
Watch your step, kid (yo, you best protect ya neck).
When they see me, they say, “Who dat ovah there?” Just a lil dude with a head full of hair.
Everybody wants to be a DJ, everybody wants to be an MC, but being speakers are the best.
Every hood that we go through, all the gangsters around know my whole crew.
Shimmy shimmy ya, shimmy yam, shimmy yay, gimme the mic so I can take it away.
It’s not a game – you play chess with life, end up in the flame.
Now I’m a start collecting props, connecting plots. Networking like a conference, ‘cause the nonsense is yet to stop.
The most duplicated, anticipated, validated urban legends in the books with the ones who made it.
Brothers front, they say the Tribe can’t flow, but we’ve been known to do the impossible like Broadway Joe.
Well, I’ll be darned, shiver me timbers yo, head for the hills! I picked a weeping willow, and a daffodil.
Want to measure my size? I rise above the norm, the urban icon ridin’ on the eye of the storm, fool.
It was all a dream, I used to read Word Up! magazine, Salt-n-Pepa and Heavy D up in the limousine.
I challenge any opponent who want to smoke – we can pull ‘till our voice get lower than Tone Loc.
In she came with the same type game, the type of girl giving out the fake cell phone and name.
It’s supposed to be about fun and gettin’ the pain out, but it’s all about clout and popping them chains out.
Just when things seemed the same, and the whole scene is lame, I come and reign with the unexplained for the brains ‘til things change.
Ain’t nothing changed: everyone still want the Benz and the Range, everybody still want the gems and the chains.
Can I rise? And get to the laugh, through the cries. While I’m alive, the projects, the hood through my eyes.
My posse come quick, because my posse got velocity.
The mic is cast to the floor and shapeshifted. Heavy as the hammer of Thor you can’t lift it.
Lord Finesse and DJ Mike Smooth dial up the number of the funky technician!
Stripped down, subtle, sinister, superior hip hop.
Fight the power, indeed.
Don’t push me, ‘cause I’m close to the edge.
Still making some noise, still hilarious, still the Beastie Boys.
A hardcore underground gem from hip hop’s golden age.
A genius by the name of GZA emerges on the scene.
Incredible underground hip hop with laid back jazz, funk, and r&b influences, fronted by one of the best MCs in hip hop history.
Jay-Z’s debut album has a great blend of rawness and tremendous vitality and energy.
The best solo album by the great Q-Tip of A Tribe Called Quest (and many collaborations) fame.
Slow-paced, almost hypnotic hip hop prowess.
Old school, east coast hip hop flavor with horn riffs and soul music samples for days.
High highs, consistently stellar production work, and A Game from our man. That being the M-E-T-H-O-D man.
Rap music for getting one’s head up.
Wu-Tang Clan and RZA vibes await.
Smart, blistering underground hip hop with ultra-tight flow.
Old school hip hop with flavors of A Tribe Called Quest and Digable Planets, and that’s just sweet.
It’s a fun (very) old school hip hop party album, and/but “Apache” is the towering achievement here that merits best 1,000 album list consideration.