We Get Together Like A Chior...

To acquire what we desire...

And it was written that the celebration shall continue. As promised, this here is the week that I appreciate the music, and musicians that helped raise and mold me. Today we pay tribute the Rap Group.

To qualify, there must be more than one vocal performer. This means that groups like Naughty by Nature and Kool G. Rap and Polo don’t count. To be a group – or duo – you must have not only lyrical ability, but personality. Doubtless, the greatest single emcees have personality, but a group’s personality is not that of one man. It is a collaboration, a meeting of minds, without which it is no more than a bunch of rappers in a cipher. No, the group is an entity that – more often than not – is greater than its parts.

Now, I present—

Sonnyredd’s Top Ten (remember them, the Adidas joints? Those were my shit! It’s my party, I’ll digress if I want to) All Time Hip Hop Duos or Groups.


Number 10

EPMD – Eric and Parrish Makin Doe. These two single handedly brought Scottish Links and Fisherman Hats into vogue. But on the real, that wasn’t what propels them to this list over some very honorable mentions (See the Comments). What does it for E and PMD is that they heralded the new school. It wasn’t Leaders, Tribe or Brand Nubian, but EPMD that had the hip-hop world on notice that a new day was dawning.

[Parrish Smith]
The rhythmatic style, keeps the rhyme flowin
Good friends already bitin, without you knowin
("You out there? LOUDER!")
Can't understand, why your body's gettin weaker
Then you realize, it's the voice from the speaker
The mind become delirious, situation serious
Don't get ill, go and get curious
("It's my thing!")

[Erick Sermon]
Nuff about that, let's get on to somethin better ("LOUDER!")
And if gets warm, take off the hot sweater
And if you want some water, I'll get you a cup
And if you don't want it, then burn the hell up
("You out there? LOUDER!")
I'm tellin you now boy, you ain't jack
Talkin much junk like Mr. T at your back
but he's not, so don't act cute
Cause if you do you in hot pursuits

[PMD] It's my thing

Number 9

Salt-n-Pepa – The first ladies of rap. The female emcee was not uncommon in the 80’s. Finesse and Synquess (Hey Sista, Soul Sista), the Roxannes (Shante and ‘The Real’) and even JJ Fad and Oaktown’s 3-5-7 from out west. But there can be only one that is the “Best”, and Salt, Pep, and Spin (Both of them) hold that title. They were so good, they get a pass for not writing their own rhymes. Herbie Lovebug anyone? Who else comes out dissing Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick?

Yo, bust it Sandy D.
Yo, what's up?
Have you ever been to jams when people just stand
And they pay to come in, and they don't even dance?
They're so uncouth they think they're cute
Am I lying? No, it's the truth
Right now I'm gonna show you how it's supposed to be
Cuz we, the Salt and Pepa MCs
Will chance the circumstance rocks your pants
My fans, this is called the jam

Number 8

Geto Boys- I sit alone in my four-cornerd room looking at candles... Ever been to Houston? Me neither. But I know the 5th Ward like the back of my hand thanks to the boys from the geto. While Scarface is one of the all time greatest emcees, Willie D and Bushwick “an eye for an eye” Bill brought the ruckus. They founded and perfected the short lived “horrorcore” movement, and Willie D knocked Mellie Mel out. Need I say more?

[ Bushwick Bill ]
I'm back like a rebel 'making trouble'
I'm an Assassin, kickin ass on the double
No motherfucker alive's gonna stop me
So fuck you and your goddamn posse

[ Willie D ]
It's time to step on some motherfuckin toes
(Nah D!) Man, fuck them hoes
The East Coast ain't playin our songs
I wanna know what the hell's goin on
Gimme my card, radio sucker
I'll kick your ass and take the motherfucker
Everybody know New York is where it began
So let the ego shit end

[ DJ Akshen (Scarface) ]
Black radio is being disowned
Not by the other race, but its own
A lot of bullshit records make hits
Because the radio is all about (politics)
Akshen is my identity, whoever you be
(Don't) (don't) (don't fuck with me)
My last go, the radio struck me with a low blow
Now I'm doin it like a G.O.

(Go, go, go, go, go...)

Number 7

The Roots – The world’s only hip-hop band. And the only cats since Jeff and Will to put my hometown on the map. These cats aren’t a sound, they are a movement. I predict that in 20 years, when I’m fifty, me and Mrs. Redd will take a summer and follow them around the way folks followed the Grateful Dead. Damn their lack of a platinum hit, these dudes hit the road! And industry rule number 4084 says that all your money is made on tour.

I wake up early in the morning, I mean early afternoon
Break a lyrical hymn of the stem like boom
I'm flyer when I'm higher put my shit up on a tomb
That nigga represented on the 28th of June
I'm representing Philly on the 28th of June
I can make you feel that i'm a surreal cartoon
with my pistol in the face of hip hop, stick in your face
Because i'm on a paper chase, yes i'm on a paper chase
My Timberlands are fully laced I be the Mr. Boogeyman
With records from 125th to Japan
I laid them play like Johnny Hathaway and shake a hand, shake a hand
Your lady tried to kick it, but I couldn't play my man
My niggaz is my niggaz ya see she didn't understand
I shake your hand and shit'll hit the fan, just think
Just think, what? What if you could, just blink, what?
Just blink yourself away?

Number 6

Outkast – In 1993, when Freaknic and Aggiefest were still around, there were these two cats from Atlanta – before it was “the ATL” – that didn’t make booty music. Who knew that they would later make booty music for the masses, and maintain an artistic level matched only by the Roots. Though I am not a huge fan, I respect most of all what they stand for – which is individuality is cool. Thanks Dre and Big Boi. Hip-Hop needed that.

Never smelled aroma of diploma, but I write the deep ass rhymes
So let me take ya way, back to when a nigga stayed in Southwest Atlanta,
Y'all could not tell me nuthin, thought I hit that bottom rock
At age 13, start workin at the loadin dock
They layin my mama off of work, General Motors trippin
But I come home Bank like Hank, from lickin and dippin
Doin dumb shit, not knowin what a nigga know now
Yeah, that petty shit will have you cased up and locked down
I dips, over to East Point, still actin a fool
Wastin my time in the school, I'd rather be shootin pool
Cool is how I played the tenth grade
I thought it was all about mackin hoes and wearin pimp fade
Instead of bein in class, I'd rather be up in some ass
Not, thinkin about them six courses that I need to pass
Graduation rolled around like rolly-pollies
Damn, that's fucked up. I shoulda listened when my mama told me
That, if you play now, you gonna suffer later
Figured she was talkin yin-yang, so I payed her no attention
And kept missin the point she tried to poke me with
The doper that I get, the more I'm feelin broke and shit
Huh, but that don't matter though, I am an O-UT-KAST
So get up off your ass

Number 5

A Tribe Called Quest – They came into existence in the age of the D.A.I.S.Y., these natives with silver tongues and platinum ears, and made timless music. You can’t love hip-hop and not appreciate Midnight Marauders. And Bonita Applebaum? Well let’s face it, she gotta put me on.

Goin on and on to the rhythmic variation
Wakin in the morning I still represent the nation
When I speak of nation please don't make the deviation
Rebels of the party who create the jump sensation
Mind is a pit of different information
Microphone is on so of course communication
Bogle at the party then you got the bogle-ation
Decaptatin foes yo as if my name was Jason (c'mon)
Makin all the fellas at the party lose composure
Hook up the beat with the mic and it's over (original, uh!)
A Tribe Called Quest we on the run for whatever
Trials and tribulations that we have to endeavor
Brothers know my steelo it's a letter to the better
If you see a shorty that you like, then you sweat her
Silly with the microphone, in other words I'm loco
Six foot zero with my height, complexion cocoa
Representin on the mic it seems to be my daily
I can do a split and turn around like Alvin Ailey
But when it comes to days like this I got lyrics to go

Number 4

Public Enemy – Party for your right to fight! Let me say this about the most politically thoughtful rap group to ever spit a verse, they made me think. From the lyrics to the liner notes, these cats put it down for black people, and by extension all people , world wide. It is from reading the liner notes that I picked up a book by some guy named Haley about some cat named Red. Detroit Red, who went from Harlem to Mecca and back. Chuck and Flav – despite his search for love – are still doing it 20 years later, and we should all be thankful for it. RIP Terminator X. Cold Medina! Cold Medina!

Radio - suckers never play me
On the mix – they just O.K. me
Now known and grown when they're clocking my zone it's known
Snakin' and takin' everything that a brother owns
Hard - my calling card
Recorded and orderd - supporter of ChesimardLoud and proud kickin' live next poet supreme
Loop a troop, bazooka, the scheme
Flavor - a rebel in his own mind
Supporter of my rhyme
Designed to scatter a line of suckers who claim I do crime

Number 3

Wu Tang Clan – From the slums of Shaolin, comes The RZA, The GZA, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck, Raekwon the Chef, U-God, Ghostface Killa and...M-e-t-h-o-d- Man. The Wu-Tang Killa Bees are on the swarm. These cats put Staten Island on the map in the biggest possible way. They are the culmination of all rap groups before them, sort of like evolution. They have personalities that are so different, so diverse that it is a wonder that they could even co-exist on the same planet, let alone the same stage. Back in the early 90’s, when the Wu was performing at your local venues, they would come 100 deep with samurai swords, sais, butterfly knives, the whole nine yards. Rap collectively entered the 36th chamber and we were never the same. Our children’s children will be studying them.

[Ghostface Killer]
Who the fuck knocked our buildings down?
Who the man behind the World Trade massacres, step up now
Where the four planes at huh is you insane bitch?
Fly that shit over my hood and get blown to bits!
No disrespect, that's where I rest my head
I understand you gotta rest yours true, nigga my people's dead
America, together we stand, divided we fall
Mr. Bush sit down, I'm in charge of the war!

[Inspectah Deck]
Yes yes y'all, the I-N-S bless y'all
Stop hearts like cholesterol, let's brawl
Never fall, tear it down like a wreckin ball
Role call where my niggaz that's one for all
And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse
Cash in the envelope, spend it on kinfolk
Then smoke a ounce as we count mills
Providin you pure ecstasy without pills

Number 2

NWA—All change ain’t good. But some is eternal. Schooly D may have invented gangster rap, but these cats perfected it. Cube, Dre, Yella, Ren and Easy –motherfuckin-E made gangster rap gangsta! They simultaneously put Compton, Los Angeles, California and the entire West Coast on the map.

[Dr. Dre] Eazy is his name and the boy is comin...


...straight outta Compton
is a brotha that'll smother yo' mother
and make ya sister think I love her
Dangerous motherfucker raises hell
And if I ever get caught I make bail
See, I don't give a fuck, that's the problem
I see a motherfuckin cop I don't dodge him
But I'm smart, lay low, creep a while
And when I see a punk pass, I smile
To me it's kinda funny, the attitude showin a nigga drivin
but don't know where the fuck he's going, just rollin
lookin for the one they call Eazy
But here's a flash, they never seize me
Ruthless! Never seen like a shadow in the dark
except when I unload, see I'll get over the hesitation
and hear the scream of the one who got the last penetration
Give a little gust of wind and I'm jettin
But leave a memory no one'll be forgettin
So what about the bitch who got shot? Fuck her!
You think I give a damn about a bitch? I ain't a sucker!
This is the autobiography of the E, and if you ever fuck with me
You'll get taken by a stupid dope brotha who will smother
word to the motherfucker, straight outta Compton

Wow. What a group of artists. All I can say about number one is...

Now we have...
A whole lot of superstars...
on this stage here tonight...
But I want y’all to know one thing...
This is...
My House!
and when I say who's house,
yall know what time it is.




Who's house?


Number 1

RUN-DMC – It is indeed Run’s house! The single greatest group of all time, inductees into the rock and roll hall of fame, the Kings from Queens reign supreme over everything! The good right Reverend Run, DMC, and the late great Jam Master Jay will forever be remembered as the spark that took this thing we call hip hop to the masses. I give you, the Kings of Rock!

I'm the king of rock, there is none higher
Sucker MC's should call me sire
To burn my kingdom, you must use fire
I won't stop rockin' till I retire

Now we rock the party and come correct
Our cuts are on time and rhymes connect
Got the right to vote and will elect
And other rappers can't stand us, but give us respect

They called us and said we're gettin iller
There's no one chiller
It's not Michael Jackson and this is not Thriller
As one def rapper, I know I can hang
I'm Run from Run-DMC, like Kool from Kool and the Gang
Roll to the rock, rock to the roll
DMC stands for devastating mic control
You can't touch me with a ten foot pole
And I even made the devil sell me his soul

Now we crash through walls, cut through floors
Bust through ceilings and knock down doors
And when we're on the tape, we're fresh out the box
You can hear our sound for blocks and blocks
For every living person we're a purple treat
It's me and DMC, Jay where's the beat?

Now we're the baddest of the bad, the coolest of the cool
I'm DMC, I rock and roll. I'm DJ Run, I rock and rule
It's not a Trick or Treat and it's not a April Fool
It's all brand new, never ever old school

Simply the best. Honorable mentions...comments.