These Are Arguably The 17 Best Bars From Black Thought's Hot 97 Freestyle
Rapping over Mobb Deep‘s classic “The Learning (Burn),” the instrumental was a fitting choice considering Thought took us to class with his freestyle. Even now, people throughout the Internet are parsing through each and every line The Roots MC dropped, trying to catch any references or standout lines that went over their head after the first, second, and third listen.
So, in honor of the freestyle we’ve selected 17 of the most standout lines Thought spit during the performance. Forewarning though: these bars might cause your device to explode, so read on with caution.
Fools swear they’re wise, wise men know they’re foolish / We was headed for the web even before computers.
Them brothers said ‘Don’t go from written bars filled with rage / To primetime television and your guilded cage / Then, forget his people in the world still enslaved’ / I barbwire my wrist, and let it fill the page.
Gun firing flares, sirens glare / I’m in an iron chair with people who care / Don’t get the lion share / When I don’t give a f**k, then I ain’t fair.
Pre-Kardashian Kanye, my rhymeplay immaculate / Same cadence as D.O.C. pre-accident.
The anomaly sworn solemnly high snobbidy / Freakanomics and war policy, dichotomy / That’s Heaven and Hades, Tigres and Euphrates / His highness, the apple of the Iris to you ladies / As babies, we went from semi-lac and Enfamil / To the internet and Fentanyl / Where our consent was still against the will.
Listen, somebody said the price tag was on the rapper’s head / So we gon’ see a nice bag when the rapper dead / The mask black, the flag green, black, and red / They’ll probably wave a white flag after plasma shed.
My Levontae resemble of vehicular threats / The mic I spray resembling the sickle of death / It ain’t strenuous to come from a continuous breath / I set fire to the venue, I’ma spin you and step.
Yo, these weaklings is claiming they cutting up in the streets / Nigga please, you ain’t working with nothing but the police / Listen, you ain’t finna be nothing but the deceased / Listen, you in a tournament with a permanent crease.
How much more CB4 can we afford? / It’s like a Sharia Law on My Cherie Amour / How much hypocrisy can people possibly endure? / But ain’t nobody working on a cure?
My pen is Henry Kissinger, Buzz Bissinger.
Go through the vein to the brain, fabulous and strange / My journalistic range is a catalyst for change / It got anybody that listen pissing flame / And ’cause the Hall of Fame got so many missing names.
Listen, a grain of salt’ll tip the scale, it never fails / Walk on egg shells, sleep on a bed of nails / Criminal records like record sales / Making heads or tails, we like Henrietta Lacks up in the cells.
I am a walking affirmation, that imagination / And focus and patience get you closer to your aspiration / And just ’cause they give you s**t don’t mean you have to take it / My words capture greatness, sworn affidavits.
I’ve been having visions of Nat Turner holding his master’s head / Like Yorick and Horatio in Hamlet / Smacking it like a tennis racket underhanded / Send a message through the Gram: ‘The Eagle has landed’ / Dressed in a military jacket made of canvas / I am no gorilla I just make ’em go bananas / Outstanding, red, black and green bandanas.
I’m like, ahem, approach the author with your offering / I spoil rappers rotten like my only offspring / Being His excellency gets to be exhausting.
Pentamine, I’m made of elements you can’t combine / I’m at a level of intelligence you can’t define / Einstein, Shakespeare, Voltaire, Tesla / Recording artist slash psychology professor / I preach for the East, never fold under pressure / The beat’s from the East and I glide like Clyde Drexler.
Ayo, my new name is 85 X’s / ‘Cause I’m the rap game certified specialist / When I was reckless I was worried ’bout the guest list / I’m helping rappers everywhere fulfill a, death wish.
Drop a line in the comments to let us know what your favorite bar was.