The Best Rap Verses of All Time as Ranked by Fans

Yo, this ain’t just a list, it’s a lyrical battlefield. We’re ’bout to rank the top 100 verses that changed the rap game forever! The word architects, the poets of the streets, the MCs who dropped the realest bars in hip hop history.

We’re talkin’ classics and modern bangers, from Nas paintin’ pictures of NYC in “N.Y. State of Mind,” to B.I.G. commandin’ the mic on “Victory.” Feel the weight of Andre 3000’s words on “Elevators,” and the raw truth in AZ’s “Life’s a B*tch.” Check Jay-Z stuntin’ on “Dead Presidents,” and the legend Rakim reppin’ on “My Melody.” From Lil Wayne’s wild wordplay on “We Takin’ Over” to Eminem’s fire on “Lose Yourself,” yo, this list is straight heat.

All the way through to Slick Rick’s classic stories, Nas and Raekwon spittin’ gems, and don’t forget Inspectah Deck kicking off Wu-Tang’s “Triumph” with a bang. This countdown is where hip hop legends live, here are the 100 best rap verses of all time.

Released: February 11, 1997

Album: Wu-Tang Forever

I bomb atomically, Socrates’ philosophies and hypotheses Can’t define how I be dropping these mockeries Lyrically perform armed robbery Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me Battle-scarred Shogun, explosion when my pen hits tremendous Ultraviolet shine blind forensics I inspect you through the future see millennium Killa Beez sold fifty gold, sixty platinum Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function Heads by the score take flight, incite a war Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly Proceeds to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock Wu got it locked, performing live on your hottest block

Released: August 1, 1995

Album: Only Built 4 Cuban Linx…

Through the lights, cameras, and action, glamor, glitters, and gold I unfold the scroll, plant seeds to stampede the globe When I’m deceased, by then the beast arise like yeast To conquer peace, leaving savages to roam in the streets Live on the run, police paying me to give in my gun Trick my wisdom with the system that imprisoned my son Smoke a gold leaf, I hold heat nonchalantly I’m raunchy, but things I do is real, it never haunts me, while Funny style ni**as roll in the pile Rooster-heads profile on the bus to Rikers Isle Holding weed inside they pussy with they minds on the pretty things in life Props is a true thug’s wife It’s like a cycle, ni**as come home, some’ll go in Do a bullet, come back, do the same shit again From the womb to the tomb, presume the unpredictable Guns salute life rapidly, that’s the ritual

Released: August 13, 1985

Album: N/A

La-di-da-di, we like to party We don’t cause trouble, we don’t bother nobody, we’re Just some men that’s on the mic And when we rock up on the mic we rock the mic (Right) For all of y’all keeping y’all in health Just to see you smile and enjoy yourself ‘Cause it’s cool when you ’cause a cozy condition That we create, ’cause that’s our mission So listen to what we say Because this type of shit, it happens every day I woke up around ten o’clock in the morning I gave myself a stretch up, a morning yawning Went to the bathroom to wash up Had some soap on my face and my hand upon a cup I said, “Um, mirror, mirror on the wall Who is the top choice of them all?” There was a rumble jumble, five minutes it lasted The mirror said, “You are, you conceited bastard!” But that’s true, that’s why we never have no beef So then I washed off the soap and brushed the gold teeth Used Oil Of Olay ’cause my skin gets pale And then I got the files for my fingernails Due to the night and on my behalf I put the bubbles in the tub so I could have a bubble bath Clean, dry was my body and hair I threw on my brand new Gucci underwear For all the girls I might take home I got the Johnson’s Baby Powder and the Polo cologne Fresh dressed like a million bucks Threw on the Bally shoes and the fly green socks Stepped out my house stopped short, oh no I went back in, I forgot my Kangol And then I dilly (dally), I ran though a (alley) I bumped into my old girl (Sally) from the (valley) This is a girl plays hard to get so I said “What’s wrong?” ’cause she looked upset, she said “It’s all because of you I’m feeling sad and blue You went away and now my life is filled with rainy days And I love you so, how much you’ll never know ‘Cause you took your love away from me” Now what was I to do She’s crying over me and she was feeling blue I said, um, “Don’t cry, dry your eye Here comes your mother with those two little guys” Her mean mother stepped up, said to me “hi” Looked Sally in the face and decked her in the eye Punched her in the belly and stepped on her feet Slammed the child on the hard concrete The bitch was strong, the kids was gone Something was wrong, I said “What is going on?” I tried to break it up, I said “Stop it, leave her” She said “If I can’t have you, she can’t either” She grabbed me closely by my socks So I broke the hell out like I had the chicken pox, but She gave chase, she caught up quick She put a finger in the face of MC Rick She said, “Why don’t you give me a play So we can go cruising in my OJ? And if you give me that OK I’ll give you all my love today Ricky, Ricky, Ricky, can’t you see? Somehow your words just hypnotize me And I just love your jazzy ways Oh, MC Rick, my love is here to stay!” And on and on and on she kept on The bitch been around before my mother’s born I said, “Cheer up,” I gave her a kiss I said, “You can’t have me, I’m too young for you miss.” She says, “No, you’re not!” then she starts crying I says, “I’m nineteen,” she said, “Stop lying!” I says, “I am, go ask my mother And with your wrinkled pussy, I can’t be your lover!” To the tick tock ya don’t stop To the tick tick ya don’t quit Hit it!

Released: October 28, 2002

Album: 8 Mile: Music from and Inspired by the Motion Picture

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy There’s vomit on his sweater already, mom’s spaghetti He’s nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgetting What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud He opens his mouth, but the words won’t come out He’s choking, how? Everybody’s joking now The clock’s run out, time’s up, over, blaow Snap back to reality, ope there goes gravity, ope There goes Rabbit, he choked, he’s so mad but he won’t Give up that easy, no, he won’t have it, he knows His whole back’s to these ropes, it don’t matter, he’s dope He knows that but he’s broke, he’s so stagnant, he knows When he goes back to this mobile home, that’s when it’s Back to the lab again, yo, this old rhapsody Better go capture this moment and hope it don’t pass him, and

Released: April 19, 1994

Album: Illmatic

Visualizin’ the realism of life in actuality Fuck who’s the baddest, a person’s status depends on salary And my mentality is money-orientated I’m destined to live the dream for all my peeps who never made it ‘Cause yeah, we were beginners in the hood as Five Percenters But somethin’ must’ve got in us, ’cause all of us turned to sinners Now some restin’ in peace and some are sittin’ in San Quentin Others, such as myself, are tryin’ to carry on tradition Keepin’ this Schweppervescent street ghetto essence inside us ‘Cause it provides us with the proper insight to guide us Even though we know, somehow we all gotta go But as long as we leavin’ thievin’ We’ll be leavin’ with some kind of dough So, until that day we expire and turn to vapors Me and my capers will be somewhere stackin’ plenty papers Keepin’ it real, packin’ steel, gettin’ high ‘Cause life’s a bitch and then you die

Released: July 30, 1996

Album: Ridin’ Dirty

Well, it’s Bun B, bitch, and I’m the king of movin’ chickens Not them finger-lickings, stickin’ ni**as that be trickin’ You need a swift kickin’, your ass is ripe for the pickin’ Now as my pockets thicken, I’m deep-thinkin’, nickel-slickin’ You sick when I be clickin’, now take a look at the bigger ni**a Malt liquor swigger, player hater ditch digger Figure my hair trigger give a hot one in your liver You shiver, shake, and quiver I’m frivolous if a ni**a get wetter than a river For what it’s worth, it’s the birth of some ni**as doin’ dirt Fuck her first night, take off the skirt, make her pussy hurt Mister Master, hit the Swisha faster Than you fever blistered bastards, fucked your sister, passed her Fifty elbows for sale, yo Brother better have my mail, ho ‘Fore I catch a murder case and go to jail, oh Hell no, time to bail, hit the trail so We can sell more fuckin’ yayo, get the scale, no Other bullet duckers can shove us out of this game They better buck us, ’cause the cluckers, they love us Make them glass dick suckers shake they jelly like Smucker’s I hit like nunchakus, ’cause Short Texas bring the ruckus This for my motherfuckers, cookin’ cheese to crooked Gs Rockin’ up quarter keys to get the hook with ease Wanna-bes get on your knees, feel the squeeze from them HK13s From here to overseas, we do what we please Don’t trip ’cause we flip, light up a dip I’m breakin’ ’em off from they hip to your lip Go ask that boy Skip, that ni**a Bun rip With one clip, soon as the gun slip Now I done whipped out my Barrelli, flyin’ through your Pelle Pelle And some smelly red jelly is drippin’ out of ya belly Served ’em up like a deli, jumped on my cellular tele’ Ho, sell it like it’s goin’ out of style You can’t see me, Marcus So have a motherfuckin’ Sweet and a smile

Released: July 7, 1987

Album: Paid in Full

I’m not a regular competitor, first rhyme editor Melody arranger, poet, et cetera Extra events, the grand finale like bonus I am the man they call the microphonist With wisdom, which means wise words being spoken Too many at one time, watch the mic start smoking I came to express the rap I manifest Stand in my way and I’ll veto, all the word’s protest Emcees that wanna be best, they’re gonna Be dissed if they don’t get from in front of All they can go get is me a glass of Moët A hard time, sip your juice and watch a smooth poet I take seven emcees put ’em in a line And add seven more brothers who think they can rhyme Well, it’ll take seven more before I go for mine Now that’s twenty-one emcees ate up at the same time Easy does it, do it easy, that’s what I’m doing No fessing, no messing around, no chewing No robbing or buying, biting, why borrow? This slob will stop trying, fighting to follow My unusual style will confuse you a while If I was water, I’d flow in the Nile So many rhymes, you won’t have time to go for yours Just because of applause, I have to pause Right after tonight is when I prepare To catch another sucker duck emcee out there ‘Cause my strategy has to be tragedy, catastrophe And after this you’ll call me your majesty My melody

Released: February 20, 1996

Album: Reasonable Doubt

So sick of ni**as “I want money like Cosby” – who wouldn’t? This the kinda talk that make me think you probably ain’t got no puddin’ ni**as got them kinda dreams from jail You in the streets, ni**a, make your moves, get your mail ni**as’ll coast in the SL but can’t post bail ni**as’ll roast a L, but scared to throw your toast, well I’m here to tell ni**as it ain’t all swell There’s heaven, then there’s hell, ni**as One day you’re cruisin’ in your 7, next day, you’re sweatin’, forgettin’ your lies Alibis ain’t matchin’ up, bullshit catchin’ up Hit with the RICO, they repo your vehicle Everything was all good just a week ago ‘Bout to start bitchin’, ain’t you? Ready to start snitchin’, ain’t you? I’ll forgive your weak-ass: hustlin’ just ain’t you Aside from the fast cars, honies that shake they ass at bars You know you wouldn’t be involved With the underworld dealers, carriers of MAC-millers East Coast bodiers, West Coast cap-peelers Little monkey ni**as turn gorillas Stopped in the station, filled up on octane, and now they not sane And not playin’, that goes without sayin’ Slayin’ day in and day out, when money play in, then they play you out Tryin’ to escape my own mind, lurkin’ the enemy Representin’ infinity with presidencies, you know?

Released: July 9, 1996

Album: ATLiens

Got stopped at the mall the other day Heard a call from the other way that I just came from (“Ayy”) Some ni**a was saying something Talking ’bout smoke something “Hey, man, you remember me from school?” “No, not really” But he kept smiling like a clown, facial expression looking silly And he kept asking me, “What kinda car you drive? I know you paid, I know y’all got beaucoup hoes From all them songs that y’all done made” And I replied that I’d been going through the same things that he has True, I’ve got more fans than the average man But not enough loot to last me to the end of the week I live by the beat like you live check-to-check If it don’t move your feet, then, I don’t eat, so we like neck-to-neck Yes, we done come a long way like them slim-ass cigarettes From Virginia, this ain’t gon’ stop, so we just gon’ continue

Released: July 22, 1997

Album: No Way Out

In the commission, you ask for permission to hit ’em He don’t like me, hit him while wifey was with him You heard of us, the murderous, most shady Been on the low lately, the feds hate me The son of Satan, they say my killing’s too blatant You hesitatin’, I’m in your mama crib waitin’ Duct tapin’ your fam Destiny lays in my hands, gat lays in my waist Francis, M to the Izz-H phenomenal Gun rest under your vest by the abdominal Rhyme a few bars so I could buy a few cars (A few cars) And I kick a few flows so I could pick a few hoes (A few hoes) Excellence is my presence, never tense Never hesitant, leave a ni**a bent real quick Real sick, brawl nights, I perform like Mike Anyone, Tyson, Jordan, Jackson Action, pack guns, ridiculous And I’m quick to bust if my ends you touch Kids or girl you touch, in this world I clutch Two auto-matos, used to call me fatso Now you call me Castro, my rap flows (Castro) Militant, y’all faggots ain’t killing shit Oops, Cristal keep spilling, shit, you overdid it, holmes You in the danger zone, you shouldn’t be alone Hold hands and say it like me The most shady, Frankie, baby, fantastic Graphic, tryin’ to make dough, like Jurassic Park did, quick to spark kids who start shit See me, only me, the underboss Of this holocaust, truly yours, Frank White

It drops deep as it does in my breath I never sleep, ’cause sleep is the cousin of death Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined I think of crime when I’m in a New York State of Mind

Go ask Alice if you don’t believe me, I get in her visions like Stevie See me ascend from the chalice like the weed be

I watch him die and when he dies let us celebrate You took his life, but your memory you’ll never take

A child is born with no state of mind Blind to the ways of mankind

A word game back up plan that can dam lakes Backup the wordplay ain’t playing that the man’s states Means I can still be the man if the dam breaks And when demand brakes I’m reflectious, what they can’t face

I’ll probably live longer than you and never fade away I’ll never fade away, I’ll never fade away, I know my fate And I’m on the grind for this cake, I’ma get it or die tryin’ I’m eyein’ every male gender with intentions of buyin’

He pointed to the charm on his neck With his last bit of energy left, told me rock it with respect I opened it, seen the God holdin’ his kids Photogenic, tears just burst out my wig

Hold the cold one like he hold a old gun Like he hold the microphone and stole the show for fun Or a foe for ransom, flows is handsome

Ah, I am the beast Feed me rappers or feed me beats

We used to fight for building blocks Now we fight for blocks with buildings that make a killin’

This is not a rap on how I’m slingin’ crack or move cocaine This is cul-de-sac and plenty Cognac and major pain Not the drill sergeant, but the stress that weighin’ on your brain

I’m only nineteen, but my mind is old And when the things get for real, my warm heart turns cold Another ni**a deceased, another story gets told

Watch as I combine all the juice from the mind Heel up, wheel up, bring it back, come, rewind Powerful impact (Boom!) from the cannon!

I ain’t a killer, but don’t push me Revenge is like the sweetest joy next to gettin’ pussy

My mind warps and bends, floats the wind, count to ten Meet the twin, André Ben’, welcome to the lion’s den

So let me get this straight, wait, I’m the rookie? But my features and my shows ten times your pay? 50K for a verse, no album out Yeah, my money’s so tall that my Barbies got to climb it

Ain’t nuthin’ but a G thang, baby Two loced out ni**as going crazy Death Row is the label that pays me

And every time you think my fifteen minutes of fame are up I’ll spit another sixteen to prove to the world I fucking own it

I’m after the gold, then after that, the platinum Beef after that, Hurricane G packs the gat, son

‘Cause we don’t want a drug push But a bird in the hand is worth more than a Bush

32 shotguns, regulate with my dunns 17 rocks gleam from one ring They let me let y’all ni**as know one thing There’s one life, one love, so there can only be one King

Like nearly half of America’s largest cities is one-quarter black That’s why they gave Ricky Ross all the crack 16 ounces to a pound, 20 more to a ki A 5 minute sentence hearing and you no longer free

I never thought you’d give me a reason to do this Cain and Abel, Jesus and Judas Caesar and Brutus, I see intruders, avert your eyes

I met this girl when I was ten years old And what I loved most, she had so much soul

Dead in the middle of Little Italy Little did we know that we riddled two middlemen who didn’t do diddly

Stranded on death row, so duck when I swing my shit I get rugged like Rawhead Rex with fat tracks that fits

No type of joke, gag, game, puzzle or riddle The name is Big Daddy, yes, Big, not little

Yo, I got one lyric pointed at your head for start Another one is pointed at your weak-ass heart Now if I pull the trigger on these fully-loaded lines You’re gonna wish I would’ve pulled a black 9

Before I buck lead and make a lot of blood shed Turn your tux red, I’m far from broke, got enough bread And mad hoes, ask Beavis, I get nothin’ Butthead

Wu brother number one Protect your neck, flyin’ guillotines, here they come Bloody bastards, hard times and killer tactics Spittin’ words plus semi-automatic slurs, peep the graphic

You’re mad ’cause my style you’re admiring Don’t be mad, UPS is hiring

Tripping off the beat kinda, dripping off the meat grinder Heat niner, pimping, stripping, soft sweet minor

I would still be ridin’ Mercedes Comin’ down and sippin’ daily No record ’til whitey pay me

Major MCs become minor B-flats So retire the mic, get your chains and your bats

Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everybody Call up KRS, I’m guaranteed to rip a party

I’m a venereal disease, like a menstrual bleed Through the pencil, and leak on the sheet of the tablet in my mind ‘Cause I don’t write shit, ’cause I ain’t got time

Can’t be eyes closed when you side scroll You not the first person The first person from your first curse until your first cursive And your curse words is in the curve version

Aiyo, camouflage chameleon, ninjas scalin’ your building No time to grab the gun, they already got your wife and children A hit was sent from the President to raid your residence Because you had secret evidence and documents

No score on a war-torn beach Where the cash cow’s actually beef Blood turns wine when it leak for police Like, “That’s not a riot; it’s a feast, let’s eat!”

Nobody can’t mute me But I never said nobody can’t shoot me

You should print my information, quote my rhymes And keep me in between these New York and L.A. Times

The realest shit I ever wrote, not Pac inspired It’s crack pot inspired, my real ni**as quote

You lack the minerals and vitamins, irons and the niacin Fuck who did I offend, rappers, sit back, I’m ’bout to begin

I’m coming for you little girl Once inside I shatter your world Swirl, no more dreams, no hopes when I spray

I’m like young LL, cuz I’m hard as hell Makin’ ni**as screw face like Gargamel Now I’m all out on my own like Patti LaBelle Put the pimp game down on your mademoiselle

They declared a war on drugs, like a war on terror But what it really did was let the police terrorize whoever

They call me Jay Electronica—fuck that Call me Jay Elec-Hanukkah, Jay Elec-Yarmulke Jay Elect-Ramadan, Muhammad as-salaam-alaikum RasoulAllah Subhanahu wa ta’ala through your monitor

Rhymes are rugged, soul flooded, cold blooded You ain’t better, you’re butter, so just shut it

I grew up on the crime side, the New York Times side Stayin’ alive was no jive

In the Bible, it says what goes around, comes around Hommo shot me, three weeks later he got shot down Now it’s clear that I’m here for a real reason ‘Cause he got hit like I got hit, but he ain’t fuckin’ breathin’

Ayo, my murderous rap verbal attack is actual fact Tactical tracks match perfectly with graphical stats Half of you lack the magical dap of tragical rap That tackles your back and shackles and laughs at you

Better come better than better to be a competitor This vet is ahead of the shit, it’s all redder, you deader and deader A medic instead of the cheddars and credda Settle vendetta with metal Beretta from ghetto to ghetto

I escaped the war, came back But ain’t escape Agent Orange: two of my kids born handicapped Spastic, quadriplegia, microcephalic Cerebral palsy, cortical blindness — name it, they had it

I can snap, rap, pack, click-clack, patter-pat-pat Take that ass to the point you have to ask for your ass back

I got a list, here’s the order of my list that it’s in It goes: Reggie, Jay-Z, 2Pac and Biggie André from OutKast, Jada, Kurupt, Nas, and then me

Get yours first, them other ni**as secondary That type of illin’ that be fillin’ up the cemetery

Straight outta Compton! Crazy motherfucker named Ice Cube From the gang called Ni**as Wit Attitudes

Extravagant, RZA bake the track and it’s militant Then I react like a convict and start killin’ shit

If I’m strong enough, I’ll live long enough to see my kids Doing something more constructive with their time than bids

Got a strange way of seeing life, like I’m Stevie Wonder with beads under the do-rag Intuition is there, even when my vision’s impaired, yeah

I got a letter from the government the other day I opened and read it, it said they were suckers They wanted me for their army or whatever Picture me giving a damn, I said never

I put a hundred percent in every line I drop It’s the Q to the B, with the M-O, B-B Queensbridge Brooklyn and we D-double-E-P, what

I ain’t talkin to Buck cause he a real ni**a Ain’t talkin to Pimp cause he a trill ni**a Ain’t talkin to BG cause he like me, with old cases and will kill ni**as I know you wannabe just like me since you got ya new record deal ni**a But I don’t give a fuck if you like me, no second diss, ya not trill ni**a Ya in ya video wearin’ white T, that don’t make you no dope dealer ni**a

Ask my baby momma how much I cried when Machine Gun died When I pulled up and seen that yellow tape outside Had me ready to grab the stick and go apes outside

And if you got robbed, you got stuck If you got shot, you got bucked And if you got double-crossed, you got fucked

And as much I wanna cower, bid the mic adieu And fall off a fucking tower tryna find you I gotta stay ’cause I remember that day I looked you in the face and told you: “Nothing can stop me, not even you”

Yo, why is Jadakiss as hard as it gets? Why is the industry designed to keep the artist in debt?

Runnin this racket, from New York to Montego Slaughtering people, bring a ton of keys from Puerto Rico

Homicide’s illegal and death is the penalty What justifies the homicide when he dies in his own iniquity?

I never needed acceptance from all you outsiders Had cyphers with Yeezy before his mouth wired Before his jaw shattered, climbing up the Lord’s ladder

Yo, microphone check one, two, what is this? The five foot assassin with the roughneck business

My emancipation don’t fit your equation I was on the humble, you on every station

Yo, picture bloodbaths in elevator shafts Like these murderous rhymes tight from genuine craft

I thought that real shit is what you been fiending ’bout What you been praying for? What you been screaming ’bout? Ironic, you been sleeping on the one that you been dreaming ’bout

My repertoire, is U.S.S.R P.L.O. style got thrown out the car

Back in the days when I was a teenager Before I had status and before I had a pager You could find the Abstract listenin’ to hip-hop My pops used to say, it reminded him of Bebop

Inter-century anthems based off inner-city tantrums Based off the way we was branded Face it, Jerome get more time than Brandon

Fly like cashmere, last year, my team caught bodies in Grasmere Hit a store owner named Mike Lavogna Italiano, slanted-eye, banging a fat Milano Selling coke right out the bottle

Kobe ’bout to lose a hundred fifty Ms Kobe my ni**a, I hate it had to be him Bitch, you wasn’t with me shootin’ in the gym

Six in the morning, police at my door Fresh Adidas squeak across the bathroom floor

Bakin’ soda YOLA whippin’, ain’t no turkey on Thanksgivin’ My homeboy just dome’d a ni**a, I just hope the Lord forgive him

Hold up, wait a minute (Minute), y’all thought I was finished? When I bought that Aston Martin, y’all thought it was rented?

That the last ten years, I been so fucking stressed Tears in my eyes, let me get this off my chest

Watch my brother ’round you bitches, I know he pretends I greet you with the love of God, that don’t make us friends I might whisper in his ear, “Bury all of them”

Just usin’ your name, I took those L’s Hung ’em on your head and rocked your bells

Oyster Perpetual, cushion cut bezel I’m busy I ain’t even had time to eat a fortune cookie

If you learn one thing from my journey, ni**a, it’s don’t stop believing When this shit got so suffocating, I could barely even keep breathing

One, and here comes the two to the three and four Then I drop the beat I have in store

Gangland, if you put a hit on Freddie Kane it’ll be a gang murder 1985, Michael Jordan, bitch, I travel with a cocaine circus

I put a Rolls and a Royce on my wrist You can smell promethazine when I piss I pray to God he bring me Actavis