I mastered The Art of War before a nigga read Sun Tzu,
Third degree black-belt, master of Gun-Fu.
Pop pills, smoke weed, even get drunk too;
And you do what you can, and I do what I want to.

Sean Price, “Like You,” Jesus Price Supastar, 2007. More from P!

Dutch in my ear, Olde E in my palm,
I Freddy Krueger your face, Michael Myers your moms.
You botherin mine? That’s when I’m sparkin the nine.

Sean Price, “King Kong,” Jesus Price Superstar, 2007

You can tell by the rhyme it’s my time to shine;
Let’s eat, motherfucker, I don’t dine on swine.
I don’t beef with turkeys, I told you the God’ll fold you,
Hard to digest: I suggest that you take tofu.

Sean Price, “Like You,” Jesus Price Superstar, 2007

Ayo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone,
Nigga, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome!

Sean P, “Don’t You Cross the Line,” from Boot Camp Clik’s The Last Stand, 2006

Fuck Batman and Robin: I’m robbin’ with a bat, man.

Rock, “Gunz ‘N Onez (Iz U Wit Me),” from Heltah Skeltah’s Magnum Force, 1998

Another day, another burial,
Got you wondering ’bout the day when they bury you.
Tear drops stain the Wally’s that you rockin’,
On the block, candles burn, guns poppin’.

Tek, “Memorial,” from Cocoa Brovaz’ (aka Smif N Wessun) The Rude Awakening, 1998.

Before I lay my head down to rest,
I roll up a nickel sack of cess to relieve the stress.

Steele, “Wontime,” from Smif-N-Wessun’s Dah Shinin’, 1995

Dutch in my ear, Olde E in my palm,
I Freddy Krueger your face, Michael Myers your moms.
You botherin mine? That’s when I’m sparkin the nine.

Sean Price, “King Kong,” Jesus Price Supastar, 2007. R.I.P!

You can tell by the rhyme it’s my time to shine;
Let’s eat, motherfucker, I don’t dine on swine.
I don’t beef with turkeys, I told you the God’ll fold you,
Hard to digest: I suggest that you take tofu.

Sean Price, “Like You,” Jesus Price Supastar, 2007. R.I.P!

Wake up: all of that ‘crack in the street’ talk?
It’s made up, like ‘Jack and the Beanstalk.’

Sean Price, “Pyrex,” Mic Tyson, 2012. R.I.P!

I don’t like thugs, I don’t like nerds,
I don’t like myself and I hate bein’ disturbed.

Sean Price, “Critically Acclaimed,” from Statik Selektah’s 100 Proof (The Hangover), 2010. R.I.P!

Ayo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone,
Nigga, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome!

Sean P, “Don’t You Cross the Line,” from Boot Camp Clik’s The Last Stand, 2006. R.I.P!

Niggas’ rap albums sound like love letters,
Pen in my hand, like: damn, fam, I could do much better.

Sean Price, “Chewbacca,” from Random Axe, 2011. R.I.P!

Gangsta rappers can’t fight, so they rap about guns.

Sean Price, “Onion Head,” Monkey Barz, 2005. R.I.P!