15 of the Best Rap Verses of 2015

Verse 1: "We're all chemicals, vitamins and minerals/Vicodin with inner tubes, wrapped around the arm/To see the vein like a chicken on the barn/Top Cat chat, let's begin another yarn/That's flying saucer cheese, or is it chicken parm'?/But roosters don't fly like boosters don't buy/So what powers cowards to get them to the top/Just to fall asleep listening to Bach?/The ribbon in the sky is the riddim that I drop/Dribbling the eye across the prism of a clock/That lacks meaning, but racks up stacks of fat reading/They catch Chief and wrapped up plants from trap dealings/Now what's a coffin with a scratched ceiling?/And what's the talking without the match feeling/That's buried living? And cherry picking/Every lemon from your berry system/Then proceed with the pack feeding/When I was young I had visions of another world/Sneaking looks at the porn stash of my brother Hurl/Incense smoke made vortices and other curls/Casting calls from porn films and ad space for rubber girls/I like my pancakes cut in swirls/Moroccan moles and undercover squirrels/I like cartoons, southern cities with large moons/Faith healers, ex-female drug dealers and art booms/Apologize for my weird mix/What taste like hot dogs and tear drips/And looks like pantomime and clear bricks/And smells like shotguns and deer piss/They on their hunt, kind of salty that I'm going hard/First part of a party, that I throw in parts/One minute you're playing pool, next minute you're throwing darts/But that's how you do with a party that you throw in bars/I run the Gambit like I'm throwing cards/From popular mechanics to overdosing hearts/Paint cold pictures like Nova Scotia landscapes/Nerd gang, make Mandelbrot sets when we handshake/A word game back up plan that can dam lakes/Backup the wordplay playing at 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/My peers will still treat the mirror like it's a fan base/The unfettered veteran, the eagle feathered man of medicine/That hovers above cities like weather men/And maybe weather woman/Whatever better to tell ya weather comin'/I prefer girls to reign all over the world/And not rain like, rain man or rain like rain dance/Or rain like a slight chance of rain when it's raining/Or rein like deer slaves to Santa Claus sleigh man/But reign like Queens that reign over made man/And not Queen like Queen killer, rhapsody bohemian Queen/But Queen, like white glove wave hand, and not wave hand, like it's a heat wave/So you make a fan by waving your hand, I'm talking wave, like you saying, "Hey man!"/And not hay for horses,and hoarse like you almost voiceless/You gotta treat your vocal chords, like it's a fortress/And treat every single one of your words, like reinforcements/And especially when you're recording/Cause that's the portion that's important/When I was reporting, that I was poor,but now I'm more than (poor)/It's still hooker heels, on my sugar hills, and sweet spots/Crying shames, make margarita rims, from cheap tops/Deep plots, in floor to ceiling windows, for my peep pots/A little scene, with the sickle swings, to make the wheat drop/And a hundred words, for them hummingbirds, that like to eavesdrop/And fan out, like peacocks, with a parakeet that beat box/So the sun rise, when the beat drops, and the sun dies. when the beat stops.../Then it unties, then it relocks, then it relapsed, then it detox/Then heat back, like a heat pack, on his knee caps of the weak spot/Cause he want what we got, like yeah"

Chance's Verse: "I hope you get a paper cut on your tongue/From a razor in a paper cup/I hope every soda you drink already shaken up/I hope your dreams dry like raisins in the baking sun/I hope your titties all saggy in your early 20's/I hope there's always snow in your driveway/I hope you never get off Fridays/And you work at a Friday's that's always busy on Fridays/I hope you win the lottery and lose your ticket/I hope it's Ben and Socrates poop all up in your kitchen/I hope the zipper on your jacket get stuck/And your headphones short, and your charger don't work/And you spill shit on your shirt/I hope your tears don't hurt, and I can smile in your face/Cut my losses, how Delilah changed my locks to a fade/I hope you happy, I hope you happy/I hope you ruined this shit for a reason, I hope you happy, igh!"

Big Sean's Verse: "Okay, I walk with a limp and I talk with a slur/I might wear every single chain and mix it up with my fur/I might get every single drink and mix it up til I blur/I tell the bitch get on my lap, but don't you get on my nerves/I need that bag full of green like I lawnmow it/John Doe and all Sean Doe it/And I keep it G, yeah, I ground floor it/And I'm pound blowin'/If her pussy good then I might one, two, three, round four it/Got her down for it/Yeah, nigga overthink, never under stress/Yeah, I understand, your girl over, I'm so unimpressed/Yeah, and she tryna fuck me raw, unprotect/But if I don't have that rubber on it I feel under dressed/Yeah, and I got money bags under my eyes, ho, cause I ain't sleep/They all Goyard too cause I ain't cheap/And I put everything in motion like I-N-G/And when we flyin' private you could bring the gun on with us/I got this freak to 3rd base, she tryna run home with us/And I got comma on comma on comma on comma... on comma/And I ain't talking about no run on sentence/Yeah, nigga hot headed so I need that Chings Chili/Put my P up on her head like that bitch is reppin' Philly/And I wheelie in that pussy like my nigga Meek Milly/On my way to meet millis/Lawyer drafting up the deep deep dealies/I got rich decided that ain't rich enough/When I did it big, bitch, I decided that ain't big enough/Dead Pres, who you diggin up?/Who that nigga that you hating on, but just can't get enough?/Fuck, the jig is up, little bitch"

Verse 3: "I'm the biggest hypocrite of 2015/When I finish this if you listenin' then sure you will agree/This plot is bigger than me, it's generational hatred/It's genocism, it's grimy, little justification/I'm African-American, I'm African/I'm black as the heart of a fuckin' Aryan/I'm black as the name of Tyrone and Darius/Excuse my French but fuck you — no, fuck y'all/That's as blunt as it gets, I know you hate me, don't you?/You hate my people, I can tell cause it's threats when I see you/I can tell cause your ways deceitful/Know I can tell because you're in love with that Desert Eagle/Thinkin' maliciously, he get a chain then you gone bleed him/It's funny how Zulu and Xhosa might go to war/Two tribal armies that want to build and destroy/Remind me of these Compton Crip gangs that live next door/Beefin' with Pirus, only death settle the score/So don't matter how much I say I like to preach with the Panthers/Or tell Georgia State "Marcus Garvey got all the answers"/Or try to celebrate February like it's my B-Day/Or eat watermelon, chicken, and Kool-Aid on weekdays/Or jump high enough to get Michael Jordan endorsements/Or watch BET cause urban support is important/So why did I weep when Trayvon Martin was in the street when gang banging make me kill a nigga blacker than me?/Hypocrite!"

Black Thought's Second Verse: "Yo, post traumatic stress, I wear it as a family crest/I murder at its best, words that'll manifest causing cardiac arrest/Budapest to Marrakesh, my slang Bangladesh/My gang’s Clarence X, I'm life after death, the last Levine X/Lettin' every other rapper know they better wear a vest/I'm pulling in two hundred thousand for appearances/I wrote a song about it, here it is, yo/The creature feature search a preacher teacher torch/Capture, rupture, rapture, reach her, the preacher/He defeat ya, speak the ether, sneak then creep ya/Say no peace to meet ya, can't nobody get with me/Strong suits from Italy, chill, humility what I'm all about, ability, yo/I wish a nigga would bring the hostility though/You know how them boys from Philly be/I'm like cyanide, creeping through the air ducts/And I got a foul mouth, tell 'em kids earmuffs/When I was at school, I was who to steer clear of/Smoking a reefer in the bathroom, sipping Smirnoff/When it came time for the pictures in the yearbook/I was up in Paris like an American werewolf/Years later, yo I'm an American hero verse evil like/Deerhoof, if I let the bear woof/They don't recognize me when I'm shopping up in Berdgdorf/They just know I'm flier than the motherfucking airport/Therefore they say I'm a sartorial gear whore, yeah"

Verse: "I put my lifetime in between the papers line/Just a hustler out here trying to make a dime
Feel like when crackheads was beggin' me to take the nine/Man these bum ass rappers need to make a sign/That say will rap for food, for real scrap you're screwed/I put the paws on you and lil' scrap you dudes/My goons in the audience still clap when cued/Put the Hawk in your chest and Millsap you dudes/I'm still snapping dude, still run my city and still lapping' dudes/In the studio in a still trappin' mood/On a beat from '99 that's still slappin' dude"

Verse One: "Hey, I'm just a nigga until I fill my pockets/And then I'm Mr. Nigga, they follow me while shoppin'/I feel like Mick and Richards, they feel like Muddy Waters/So tell me what's the difference, so tell me what's the difference?/My momma was a Christian, Crip walkin' on blue-waters
Was fadin' up in Davis, then walkin' back to Palmer/A fro like Huey partner, Auntie Angie had them choppers/So tell me what's the difference, so tell me what's the difference?/I feel like "Fuck Versace", they rapin' nigga's pockets/And we don't get acknowledged, just thank me for the profit
A prophet just like Moses, if Moses look like Shaka/Zulu, my .44 loaded, I'm aimin' at Nirvana
My bitch look like Madonna, they starin' at katana
Waiter still ain't brought the chopsticks, should have brought the chopper/Uber driver in the cockpit look like Jeffrey Dahmer/But he lookin' at me crazy when we pull up to the projects"

"This for y'all that think that I don't write enough/They just mad cause I got the midas touch/You love her, then you gotta give the world to her/Is that a world tour or your girl's tour?/I know that you gotta be a thug for her/This ain't what she meant when she told you to open up more/Yeah, trigger fingers turn to twitter fingers/Yeah, you gettin' bodied by a singin' nigga/I'm not the type of nigga that'll type to niggas/And shout-out to all my boss bitches wifin' niggas/Make sure you hit him with the prenup/Then tell that man to ease up/I did another one, I did another on"

Verse One: "Yo, sitting back plotting, jotting information on my nation/Really started from the bottom, boy cotton/But they still planting plantations, we keep buying in/Closed-minded men/Pride is higher than the prices on your Pradas and Balenciagas Balance my saga with the Henny agua/Me and my niggas tryna eat, you pussies empanada/The flow like plenty lava/With just a penny I could multiply my worth/And make you work for me for twenty hours/I swear these niggas love to copy, thanks for listening/The kid ain't been the same/Since Biggie smacked me at my christening/Watch what you dishing and please play it safe/Cause your position on the top is switching right in front your face/Rock you outta space with rhymes, I'm bustin' out/Keep ducking down, got some missiles now, headed for your house/So put the pistols down, got that red dot on your nose/Who booked the clown? I lock jaws like a blue nose/Foes keep your mouth closed or you can see the solar/I got connections that guaranteed to see closed doors/You hear that underground sonar/The way I flows then switch them/The Pros been on a mission/Listen, enter the chamber, get hyperbolic/They raisin' Macs, I raise steaks to keep them brolic/My visions is macrocosmic, pass the chronic/The mastered sonics is light years above your conscious/You're novice, but I got notes that strike nerves/I promise your minds ain't sharp like my swords/So cut the BS, and don't worry where my jeans is/And PS: Your bitch a genius, learned from my penis/I got dreams selling arenas and breaking brackets/Tenants racket, while I'm cracking a Serena/God damn, God bless the heaven that sent you/But now I'm breezing out, baby, cause my rent's due"

J. Cole's Verse 2: "What's the price for a black man life?/I check the toe tag, not one zero in sight/I turn the TV on, not one hero in sight/Unless he dribble or he fiddle with mics/Look out the window cause tonight the city lit up with lights, cameras and action/May no man alive come through and damage my faction/I brought you niggas with me cause I love you like my brothers/And your mothers' like my mother/Think we need a plan of action/The bigger we get the more likely egos collide/It's just physics, please let's put our egos aside/You my niggas, and should our worst tendencies turn us into enemies/I hope that we remember these/Nights fulla Hennessey/When Hov around we switch up to that D'usse/Gotta show respect, one day we tryna stay where you stay/Cause we from where you from/Not talkin' bout the slums/I'm talkin' 'bout that mind state that keep a black nigga dumb/Keep a black nigga dyin' by a black nigga gun/And keep on listening to the frontin' ass rap niggas sun/Yeah I said 'sun'/This is New York's finest/For 11 winters straight I took on New York's climate/Like show me New York's ladder/I climb it and set the bar so high that you gotta get Obama to force the air force to find it/Never mind it, you'll never reach that/Cole is the hypnotist, control the game whenever he snap/That's every track, nigga"

Verse One:  "I don't act hard, I'm a hard act to follow, nigga/Like it or not, when it drop, bet he gotta listen/Chasing dragons, tryna make it happen, on a mission/Step into the shadows, we could talk addiction/When it's harmful where you going and the part of you that know it/Don't give a fuck, pardon me for going into details/3-7-6 was a brothel/We had females come in every hour on the dot/And the shit sound like a gavel when it knock/Focused on my chatter, ain't as frantic as my thoughts/Lately I've been panicking a lot/Feeling like I'm stranded in a mob, scrambling for Xanax out the canister to pop/Never getting out of hand/Steady handling my job, time damaging my ties/Who turn to get up? Get dude turned to dinner quick/You circus niggas, you turning into tricks/I was making waves, you was surfing in 'em/Dealing with the stomach pains just from birthing niggas' shit/Cut the grass off the surface/Pray the lawnmower blade catch the back of a serpent, niggas' shit/Bitch"

Nas Verse: "You could die young out here/Mess around and die before 21 out here/Mamas stressing, seen them ratchets in the dresser/She not asking questions/She seen the vests and seen other kids in the casket resting/Weed so loud they got surround sound/Smoking good shit cause they tryna take me back to some hood shit/Any club, any fly affair/If they start shooting all they remember is Nas was there/Some homies of yours bangin’ affiliation on their personal time/Conflict with business can hurt down the line/It’s something that you ain’t have nothing to do with/Your man confrontation end up getting you hit/Learn how to draw the line from when we hang with the shooters/Strippers, dealers and killers, leeches and opportunists/Where I come from it’s ruthless, air you out from the Ubers/Tutored by coke movers, put holes through ya'/You wouldn’t get that from me though, you’d overlook me/Looking like I just get to that money and stay in some pussy/Got a pretty real dope life/Fly nigga from the other side, hecklers, PKs, 9’s and .45’s/7.62’s, deer-hunting rifle shells, life is hell/Pussy sweeter than wine tasting/But we won’t self-indict ourselves/Be our own prosecutor, won’t 25-to-life ourselves/We bout that moolah, rich shooters"

Danny Brown's Verse:  "Both hands crusty, need a little lotion/That shit don't matter when I mix the color ocean/Smoking on potent, goons bagging up in the living room/Blocking the flat screen while I'm watching Juice/Move your big ass head, my favorite part's on/Q and the DJ battle, move or I scratch you/95's from 95's on the coffee table/Got them selling dimes still shiny as a nickel/Pistol in designer boxers, shoeboxes in bedrooms/Some got stacks but most discontinued/What's on the menu? Eat a rapper like butternut squash/Bark on a nigga with the blade out/Run up in your safehouse, how ironic/Knock a ring on a nigga like somebody hit Sonic/Smoking on chronic feeling like Nostradamic/See dying in your future, nigga I promise/Vomit colors seven series, TiVo the World Series/About to miss the game hitting sevens on the slot machine/Dice game, vice daughter, drunk driving in the Charger/With a big titty bitch looking like Toccara/I don't know what you know/But if you know what I know, you better get ghost 'fore I get Ghost/I don't know what you know/But if you know how I know, you better get ghost 'fore I get..."

Kanye West's Verse:  Richer than white people with black kids/Scarier than black people with ideas/Nobody can tell me where I'm headin/But I feel like Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen at my weddin/They say I'm crazy, but that's the best thing goin for me/You can't Lynch Marshawn if Tom Brady throwin to me/I made a million mistakes, but I'm successful in spite of 'em/I believe you like a fat trainer takin a bite or somethin/I wanna turn the tanks to playgrounds/I dreamt of 2Pac; he asked me "Are you still down?"/Yeah my nigga, it's on, it's on, it's on, it's on/I know they tell they white daughters "Don't bring home Jerome"/I am the free nigga archetype,I am the light and the beacon/You can ask the deacon/It's funny, when you get extra money/Every joke you tell just be extra funny/I mean, you can even dress extra bummy/Cocaine bathroom break, nose extra runny/And I gave you all I got, you still want extra from me/Oxford want a full-blown lecture from me/And the Lexus pull up, errr, like hop, I hopped out, like wassup?/Err-err-err, step back, hold up, my nigga, you suck, hold up/I studied the proportions/Emotions runnin at a Autobahn speed-level/Had a drink with fear, and I was textin God
He said "I gave you a big dick, so go extra hard"

Rapsody's Verse: "Let me talk my Stu Scott, ‘scuse me on my 2Pac/Keep your head up, when did you stop loving thy/Color of your skin, color of your eyes/That’s the real blues, baby, like you met Jay’s baby/You blew me away, you think more beauty in blue, green and grey/All my solemn men up north, 12 years a slave/12 years of age, thinkin’ my shade too dark/I love myself, I no longer need Cupid/Enforcin’ my dark side like a young George Lucas/Light don’t mean you smart, bein’ dark don’t make you stupid/And frame of mind for them bustas, ain’t talkin’ “Woohah!”/Need a paradox for the pair of doc's they tutored/Like two Todd's, L-L, you lose two times/If you don’t see you beautiful in your complexion/It ain’t complex to put it in context/Find the air beneath the kite, that’s the context/Yeah, baby, I’m conscious, ain’t no contest/If you like it, I love it, all your earth tones been blessed/Ain’t no stress, jigga boos wanna be/I ain’t talkin’ Jay, I ain’t talkin’ Bey/I’m talkin’ days we got school watchin’ movie screens/And spike your self esteem/The new James Bond gon’ be black as me/Black as brown, hazelnut, cinnamon, black tea/And it’s all beautiful to me/Call your brothers magnificent, call all the sisters queens/We all on the same team, blues and pirus, no colors ain’t a thing"