>>(*_*)>> J O H N D O E <<(*_*)<< EAsT/WEsT RHYMEs

[Marilyn Walker]

I hate repeating myself, but this is for all the kids who missed it on
alt.rap (I'll cross-post from now on)

JOHN DOE's Almighty Bicoastal Armegaddon Starchild Flow
With Extra Sprinkles On Top & Sides

I represent the west don't be mislead by that other shit
20 P-Funk samples and they think they're from the mother ship
G-Funk? Come on y'all, I smother it
Don't get me wrong P-Funk gets mad props and hollars
Their thought and hard work is what's bringing suckers dollars
I abolish the stereotypes they've brought upon us
I've been schooled in the east and graduated with honors
Word is bond, it's now the west where I reside
I maintain my stance while my peirs subside
When the white exec's offered E-40 complied
He spits words fast with verses and styles dead like hurses
He can't write for shit so he dribbles drabbles and babbles on
Off pace with the wack beats that he's rapping on
Sounding like a drum machine clapping on, his tracks
He's strapped with a rubber plated cardboard 22
Biting his rhymes, he gets frightened when I'm sending you
Bending you with pro-verbs he's got commercial ad-verbs
And just for the radio he takes out the bad words
Play it backwords, and theres still no kind of message
Beats are casio keybord, not phat but compressed it's
Kind of stupid aint it? Don't debate it
40's album's got more filling than a danish
I'll stab his pressure points like Sydney Poitier doing acupuncture
Teach a cop to fly when I see a wacker junction
The click is like a whole crew of whining Horshack's
Money money money and that's they go for, black
Contradicting like muslims with terret syndrome
40's wack crew's gonna be left smoking indo in limbo
His off beat styles sound so simple
He's just a businessman when it comes down to the mental
Orientation lacing catchphrases in with his wack word placement
All these crew's screaming "real" are faker than Master Ace Inc.
I'm replacing what I face because I'm tre bien
Too $hort is wacker than Marin county caucasians
Ambitions shrink when crews catch a glimps
Of an intellegent MC smashing empty minded pimps
Too $hort is a simple
Sucker like Kool J but without the dimples
John Doe flows like the wind blows
Too $hort is choppy flopping over sloppy overused brakes
Never done in two takes; modulated and bull faced
I've never seen an uglier pimp daddy
Probably impotent so lets call him the limp laddy
Looking like a bald headed black Letterman
I represent Chocolate City like the Jeffersons
Too $hort? That's what you're ex-girl told you
She had a thicker mustache than Sister Soljah
Simplistic sexist linguistics make me scold you
With rhymes packing more power than coffee made by Foldgers
It's time somebody lays down the law
It's time he drops the mic and pulls up his ripped drawers
How many times can you whine about your money and whores?
Close your jaws before you speak and make me laugh
This is a test like a canary in a mine shaft
I know he'll fold faster than The Flash at a laundry mat
His rhyming is repeditive; far from fascinating
Now he's got his hands full like Long Dong Silvers masturbating
My words are sharp like a knife lacerating
His wack ass, no debate is intended
If you step to the mic either leave it wrecked or lend it
To the next man a new proffession is recommended
$hort Dog does hip hop no glory
Wack like Dr Dre and his made-up gangster stories
Sellout house nigga living honkey dory
Saying he's broke in his own pool doing laps
All these playground MC's fall off like scabs
Skills disappear like alaka abracadab
Far from fabulous and his flow is kind of muddy
Before you name yourself "doctor", you should study
I heard that him and Snoop are very best butt budies
And look at Warren G, no skills still got an album
Sucking his brothers nuts long enough and he allowed him
Dr Dre's a disgrace selling out to the talcolm
He'll be left dead and naked in the outcome
Word to brother Malcolm
Dre shirts and hat's when will we see his cereal?
Words of ignorance screaming claiming he's imperial
Those wack metaphores aint even demo tape material
When NWA broke up I rejoiced
It must be all the Ide's 6-packs sacks and joints
Cause in all his years of rhyming I've still never heard a point
All he know's how to do is act the fool and exploit
Black people, he's see-through
Glorifying evil, filthly like swine's fecal
Matter my rhymes make ego's splatter
Bladders burst when I wreck shop like Patty Hearst
Snoop is wacker than hackey sack attacked he defends
But where will he go when trancended?
He fell behind before Marley Marl's career ended
Bended, fixed, mended and lended a dope beat
His bland vocals still choke hold his own discrete demise
It's no suprise his rise is waning
Can't be god for 3 years without updating or maintaining
Atomic Dog can only be sampled so many times
He does it no justice with those Grade Z petty rhymes
You got your money on like Ray Love now go the fuck away
He "got no love for girls" but I wont blast him cause he's gay
I bust up his ego strictly due to his display
And his association with the white owned label called Death Row
Make a buck and making 10 for Bubba Jimmy Jethrow
Exploitation that's been spread from the plantation
To the so called "black radio stations" test my patients
Spreading stereotypes to give a chuckle to caucasians
So many follow that path it's just amazing
That you see their thuggish Bone asses on a Panther soundtrack
Bippity zibbety shit's fast but their beats and voices sound wack
Kids got the nuts that a Mounds packs; none
Talking like they're gangsters but they don't pack guns
Glorifying gangbanging; making it look fun
Once again giving the white man a chuckle
When they learn to stop the suckle under pressure they'll just buckle
Cause once you've sold your soul took their mold and gone gold
Your words will have been told and you'll receive real brother's scolds
It's dirty money all these "gangsta" kids are making
Exploit their fellow man taking deals with hand shaking
"Buyaka" like a Jamaican but they're really just faking
At this point it's on a downfall like a blind ground hog
NWA, I wish the public never found y'all
Cause Just-Ice on a hot day could drown y'all
I flow medium fast smashing sassafrass trash
Every time I drop a demo my tracks give kids whiplash
Twenty crackhead's couldn't hit that
But don't try to spit that, kid
Because I'll know that you bit that
MC's these days only spit babble and such
Nice & Smooth unravled Slick Rick lost his touch
Teeth are the only way in which the Wu get buck
Pop dissing hipocrites acting hard by saying "fuck"
If you want dope metaphores in hordes, you're out of luck
Acting crazy don't amaze me Method Man's third eye is lazy
If he thinks 36 gimmiks are ever gonna make me
Buy his wack album laced with catchphrase lines
And look, some Dirty Bastard's biting Buster's phat rhymes
"No Hooks" IS the hook, care to look and you'll find
Like the O-Jays, money is why it's designed
Collaborating with SWV and Shaquile
Still they continue to diss pop, fake gold teeth yelling "real"
Attaining mass appeal while biting like a meal
I don't follow blind crowds, like Just-Ice said "That The Way I Feel"
Every line's a punch line MC's say it's lunch time
Taking bites from my precise third snake eye like dice
Revealed later not as men but merely as mice
Hip Hop's christ comes forth
Weak MC's get spliced while kings get dwarfed
Fronting on freestyles can't compare to these styles
"Represent the East" but lay face down in the weak pile
Their words inch along mine count letters for each mile
A Buster Rhymes biting sucker's never gonna make ME smile
They would if they could but they can't so they wont
Write a funky rhyme without a hundred thousand quotes
Just wait a couple years and like the titanic
The whole crew is gonna panic and be sunk in the Atlantic
Self explanitory stories because depth is too difficult
I'm flinging off their Wu styles with force like centripetal
I don't play around with mystical mic's tikes or dykes
Funkmaster Flex "freestyles" were pre-writes
My plight is to ignite a movement of tight shit
To raise subterranian standards into 'hype shit'
Like back in the day when Last Poet's got it going
They lit a bon-fire but without even knowing
These days the embers are barely even glowing
MC's claim phat but only show molasses flowing
It's time to prove by showing all these dope styles they speak of
Or the industry'll move on; their career'll meet the reaper
I'm tired of hearing Biggie on my big bass speakers
He fell off long ago like Queen Latifa, now he's smoking reefer
Here's a Warning, don't write songs about your beeper
Talking like a pimp but he's married, hairy derrier
Nasty ass lazy eye, if he's a 'player' I'm a terrier
Imagine what his wife must look like, that's even scarier
He stole his name from the west, bigger breasts on his chest
Than the honey on his left in that video
I'm tired of hearing that he's got more money than Arseneo
It's not even funny and yes my disses are intentional
Beats don't deserve mention, Puffy Combs is wack
Just for bringing us Craig Mack the kid deserves mad smacks
"Who's The Man" was kind of phat with "Party And Bullshit"
But Biggie changed up and now-a-days he can't pull shit
On Who's The Man he was dope, rougher and quicker
I'm not trying to bicker, but I can't respect a liquer sipper advertising
Ide's with ice
I guess the weak willed man can be enticed with any price
These days he's blander than cold beans and rice
Success thanks to the Source riding his jock like a horse
Saying that he's phat's a fairytale like the Norse
Standards need to be inforced with force
Or else the next thing you know Masta Ace'll go on tour
He used to have skills then he added the I.N.C.
Now he's spinning bass beats mixed with a whining beep
Remember "Me And The Biz"? He was sharper than a lion's teeth
Marly's downfall was graphic, now he's fake like plastic
His simple rhymes are crafted to make money for the grafted
While he collects the table scraps and stays satisfied
Move's like those he's made can never be gratified
Remember "Battle In Brooklyn"? Now his shit is sanitized
Talking about blunts like Cypress Hill or Channel Live
Original kids will eat the man alive
Analized, his lyrics only go knee deep
He make's-believe about the hood like Mr McPhealy
Putting me to sleep like a matress made by Sealy
That wack bass kicks like Pele while he waits for his pay day
When it comes to kicking rhymes, Masta Ace has frail legs
If they wanna produce, duck MC's should lay eggs
And stay away from the chrome microphone
If you have nothing to say, step off; I don't condone
Repeating the same old shit like part 2 of Home Alone
I never roam alone, but I'm not down with Mobb Deep
Every song they make is a repeat with a new beat
Never really saying nothing ending sounding incomplete
Offend John Doe, meet your resounding defeat
Keith Murray's vocab can't compare to the Fugees'
Nonsense can't amuse con-fuse or lose me
I swing lines like Bootsie blowing up like an uzi
Hitting targets on the head causing contusions
Confusing crews in two's and fours
Flowing like acne covered pus poors
Leaving one time wonders giving bus tours
Words in lines bust jaws
When bitten, these lines remove the dust that crusts yours
I'm much more, than merely a master
In fact I'm faster than the last flash flood disaster
Bastards like House Of Pain are left with their rep's wrecked
Insurance is collected before the mic is even checked
Inspect my deck and like Gza get your neck seperated
Depart for the same reason MC Bootie never made it
I run through gold artists like aqua regia
I wreck like Ced Gee, a key competitor
Speaking without letting up from my third eye's retina
John Doe the X the next; the etcetera

--------------------------------------------------------------------
O O
O ( ) O J O H N D O E
O O
--------------------------------------------------------------------

[Jahzid Allah]

You bad You bad!
Go head, Go head!

Jah-Z Allah
al...@sunsite.unc.edu
5% Web
http://sunsite.unc.edu/nge

Marilyn Walker (doo...@tuna.hooked.net) wrote:
: I hate repeating myself, but this is for all the kids who missed it on