))
Most Elite Mondays pt. 60 – “Looking For Trouble” [J. Cole won!]
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Pusha T., Kanye West, Cyhi The Prynce, Big Sean, J.Cole
NOW, THE QUESTION TO BE ANSWERED IS … WHO CAME OUT THE MOST ELITE?!
EACH MONDAY, M.OST E.LITE L.ADY BREAKS DOWN HIP HOP CLASSICS, AND HITS – BOTH OLD AND NEW, PITTING RAPPERS VERSES AGAINST EACH OTHER. SHE GOES BAR FOR BAR, TO UNCOVER WHO HAD THE HOTTEST LINES PER SONG.
https://googledrive.com/host/0B7xpyEhVy0t8UTJHSGVRVXZrazg/Most%20Elite%20Mondays%20pt.%2060%20_Looking%20For%20Trouble_.mp3
POINT SYSTEM:
1 POINT PER BAR IS GRANTED FOR LYRICISM, WHICH IS DEFINED AS:
- lyr·i·cism/?lir??siz?m/
- Noun: An artist’s expression of emotion in an imaginative and beautiful way; the quality of being lyrical
THIS RELATES TO “SHOCK AND AWE” (WHEN AN ARTIST STATES SOMETHING SO EXTRA-ORDINARY, THAT IT CAN’T BE OVERLOOKED).
1 POINT WILL ALSO BE GRANTED FOR CLEVERNESS, WHICH CAN BE DISPLAYED AS A METAPHOR:
- met·a·phor/?met??fôr/
- Noun A figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable.
OR AS A DOUBLE ENTENDRE:
- dou·bleen·ten·dre
- Noun: Ambiguity of meaning arising from language that lends itself to more than one interpretation
NO POINTS WILL BE GIVEN FOR ‘SWAG’ (NAMING ANYTHING MATERIALISTIC, BRAGGING).
NOR WILL ANY POINTS BE GRANTED FOR ‘FLOW’ (RHYMING FAST OR SLOW, AND TO THE BEAT).
THIS SHOW IS ALL ABOUT DISSECTING WHAT MAKES YOUR FAVORITE RAPPERS VERSES, ELITE! (OR NOT).
STAY TUNED!!!
———
LYRICS:
[Verse 1: Pusha T] Re-Up Gang Pusha
(Looking for trouble, trouble, trouble)
But you found it, mutherfucker
(Looking for trouble)
But you found it, motherfucker
But you found it motherfucker
What you now hear is puttin’ fear in all the older ones
Downplayed me to downgrade me like they don’t notice son
Your shoes too big too fill? I can barely squeeze my toes in ‘em
Fucking hoes while teachin’ niggas to hold your sons
This the rap Moses, scratch that, Mary and Joseph’s son
High as fuck with a cold flow and a loaded gun
Never say I’m better than Hov’, but I’m the closest one
Heard you lookin’ for trouble, what, I’m ‘sposed to run?
Yo’ bitch invited me inside her, ain’t I supposed to come?
Got niggas that’ll blow your tee off, put a hole in one
Now you outside of Heaven’s gate, frontin’ like you know someone
Talking hard, but y’all still ain’t push me
They say you are what you eat, and I still ain’t pussy
Fuck it, e’rybody can get it
When you’re this hot, e’rybody’s a critic
But when you’re this high e’rybody’s a midget
All this mean mugging from niggas that mean nothin’
Could it be my position is one that you dreamed of?
Went from quarter to broke to half past rich
With my badass bitch
And you don’t want no problems on some math class shit
So check the young genius out
Fuck the world, bust a nut, and let my semen sprout
I thought that real shit is what you been fiendin’ ’bout
What you been praying fo’? What you been screamin’ ’bout?
Ironic you been sleeping on the one that you been dreamin’ ’bout
(Looking for trouble, trouble, trouble)
But you found it, mutherfucker
All I see is black roses, drug dealer poses
Shoveling that devil’s angel up they noses
Never let jail turn my Shyne into Moses
Couldn’t cleanse my soul with them Civil Rights hoses
Panoramic roof, under glass like a coaster
Backseat driver, racial slurs at the chauffeur
Killian loafers, Mikimoto chokes her
Photo-op is priceless, frame our wanted posters
The Audacity, war brings casualty
Bitch have my son before I face that tragedy
I order hits, she orders mahi
R.I.P. Vivian Blake, shout out the Shower Posse
Gone
(Looking for trouble)
But you found it, motherfucker
I miss the misogyny, bad bitches massagin’ me
Sometimes we lowered our standards at the colleges
So please don’t judge me, uh, for the followin’:
Fat bitches swallowin’, skinny bitches modelin’
Take off that Givenchy and let’s get raunchy
I have your face looking all Captain Crunchy
The devil stay testing, ’cause when you chase the pussy it’s a sin
But if it falls in your lap, it’s a blessin’
Soon as I got salad, I spent it all on dressin’
French, to be exact, that Balmain was impressive
Hedi Slimane leathers
Boy, we lookin’ for trouble
Maybe if we wasn’t black, then we wouldn’t have struggled
Player, all I got is trap niggas and crooks in my huddle
They cook and I smuggle, got twenty pounds of kush in the duffle
So I’m runnin’ through them circles, boy, I’m looking like Knuckles
Look at my knuckles, got the hook in ’cause niggas was looking
I’ve tooken some whoopings, so trust me, dog, I’m good for a scuffle
Don’t be mad I whooped your ass, ’cause I’ve tooken a couple
Feds askin’ niggas questions, but I wouldn’t rebuttal
‘cause I’m Jake Gyllenhaal, I’m in the hood with the bubble
With a tall model broad like I took her from Russell
Didn’t play the cards I was dealt, I made the dealer re-shuffle
Royal Flush, so kiss my royal nuts
Ain’t nothin’ silver spooned, I came from the soil, bruh
But now I’m eatin’ off of Raffaello Gold
Exquisite ravioli with some happy yellow hoes
But don’t get it confused when I rap these mellow flows
‘Cause all my Titos got bricks like the yellow road
But you found it motherfucker
I’m, in, that no-smoke sec rolling motherfucking ounces
Marijuana mountains, drinks you’re not pronouncing
Three chains on, I don’t need no bouncers
Nothing less than a G-stack’s in my trousers
New Double D’s smashed in her blouses
Fuck a hotel, my nigga we rent houses (houses)
My nigga, we rent houses
So many wedding rings lost in them couches
I’m just a Westside lover
I leave females in my sheets and all my feelings in a rubber
This is showtime, showtime, boy, I hope you set the DVR
Stacking money face to face, this shit look like CPR
‘Ye invited me a seat to sit at the throne
So now I’m snappin’ like yo’ ass just finished a poem
Does he sound like ‘Ye, Jay, or Drizzy Drake?
Meanwhile, I’m chillin’ with all these niggas, counting all this money you ain’t
Consider yourself lucky to see a legend before the prime
A killer before the crime, a B.I.G. before the dyin’
Greet me wit’ a middle finger when you see me
It’s cool, ’cause I can’t see yo’ ass from this side of the TV, mutherfucker!
What you now hear is puttin’ fear in all the older ones
Downplayed me to downgrade me like they don’t notice son
Your shoes too big too fill? I can barely squeeze my toes in ‘em
Fucking hoes while teachin’ niggas to hold your sons
This the rap Moses, scratch that, Mary and Joseph’s son
High as fuck with a cold flow and a loaded gun
Never say I’m better than Hov’, but I’m the closest one
Heard you lookin’ for trouble, what, I’m ‘sposed to run?
Yo’ bitch invited me inside her, ain’t I supposed to come?
Got niggas that’ll blow your tee off, put a hole in one
Now you outside of Heaven’s gate, frontin’ like you know someone
Talking hard, but y’all still ain’t push me
They say you are what you eat, and I still ain’t pussy
Fuck it, e’rybody can get it
When you’re this hot, e’rybody’s a critic
But when you’re this high e’rybody’s a midget
All this mean mugging from niggas that mean nothin’
Could it be my position is one that you dreamed of?
Went from quarter to broke to half past rich
With my badass bitch
And you don’t want no problems on some math class shit
So check the young genius out
Fuck the world, bust a nut, and let my semen sprout
I thought that real shit is what you been fiendin’ ’bout
What you been praying fo’? What you been screamin’ ’bout?
Ironic you been sleeping on the one that you been dreamin’ ’bout
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