Some Yale rhymes from 108 Tongues.
The Game 2004 (Fuck Harvard)
The only crimson I see keeps runnin' out of your nose
We rain a bevy of heavy blows on the faces of foes
Like a murder of crows, close to a Biblical swarm
When we roll up in your dorm, next day, your body's found deformed
We say "define the norm," not even grade inflation
Can save you from the blue crew's decimation
I don't care which university's the best in the nation
All that lingers is the middle finger gesticulation
Matriculation gave me all of the tools
To school fools from other schools by breakin' the rules
We at the tailgate, in heavyweight U-hauls from out of state
With crates of Bacardi to save the party stuck in dire straits
Larry H. Summers doesn't want this dauntless
Crew from New Haven to come to Cambridge and flaunt this
Flow that's been known to break your face like glass
We ever-present, but love to live a lie in the past
Yo, fuck that Harvard shit
It's pretty clear your school is garbage, bitch
Y'all ain't smart, you're just a bunch of punk-ass retarded kids
Don't ever fuck with the mighty Y, you'll quickly die, g,
Believe that when steppin' to the illest Ivy League rap
We freeze tracks and only rep that hot shit
Yale first and foremost and you know it's fuckin' lonely at the top, bitch
With reputation spotless, the finest university
While y'all got the wackest college with the worst emcees
You want to talk about Cambridge? Here's a picture, let me paint it:
Harvard sucks and its campus life ain't shit
Fuck with us, we'll leave you limpin', you know Yalies stay pimpin'
We don't need to talk shit about Harvard, just read the Crimson
When we bust up in your dorms, homicide will be the norm
We got your bitches wettin' their panties when we perform
We'll take your school by storm and you never will recover
Yale Emcees, deuce double-oh four, there's no other, motherfucker...
Yo, it's the game (Fuck Harvard!) 2004
So throw them Y's up, when Yale busts through the door
We've got that flavor from New Haven you ain't heard before
You want to mess with Yale? You'd best be ready for war
As these emcees from Yale enter Harvard yard
We discard and dismember any member from the head to the center
Summer, winter, spring, or fall, we stick to your eardrums like hot tar
Bulldogs, runnin' through, turn your necks to crimson
Lyrical fireballs that enthrall the senses
To tell you the very task: We're knockin' Harvard right on its ass
We were first in the class, now we're the past, present, and future
To the college world, you're just a tumor
and we're removin' ya surgically, murderin' you verbally
as we take our spot at the top. We're givin' you no burial
Except for the Harvard women who love to drink our genetic material
Girls show me their holes and, lo, as I hit from the back
Panties hot 'cause Yalies pull more strings than a knapsack
Change your chemical properties like George Washington Carver
We knock you bitches out in this boxing ring, just call Yale Antonio Tarver
Fuck Harvard
It’s well known, we bring the fire wherever we go
I smell smoke, tou know, ask for a Yalie to flow
On the dance floor, even police ask for more
We’re lettin’ ya know, We own these boulevards and back roads
Lyrical battles? While I flow, you just prattle
I’ll stain your limbs crimson, bring brimful bins of wisdom
In my opinion, You’re just our minions
Not to mention, our university
Makes presidencies: Y’all just get inflated degrees. It’s
Inevitable that we would come to Cambridge and let our flow
Demolish your whole college, so huff and puff and blow
I’m sure it’s smoke, don’t choke, just check the door
‘cos my crew’s in the entrance, yo, in oh-four
You’re ill fit for hip hop, We raise the bar a bit
Y’all be constipated, yo, you don’t want to start shit
Yale runs the Ivy League, yo, fuck Harvard
lol, these guys rule.
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