15. Paid In Full (1987)

“Thinking of a master plan / Cause ain’t nothing but sweat inside my hand / So I dig into my pocket, all my money spent / So I dig deeper, but still coming up with lint…” 

“Paid in Full” is built on a bassline so iconic it practically hums through the DNA of Hip Hop. Lifted from Dennis Edwards’ “Don’t Look Any Further,” the loop rolls slow and low, giving Rakim all the room he needs—and he only needs one verse. But what a verse it is. No chorus, no filler, just Rakim moving through his thoughts with precision and control.

He breaks down ambition, hunger, and the grind of coming up, without bragging or begging for attention. The flow is smooth but exact, each line falling into place with almost mathematical rhythm. He makes it sound effortless, but every word is placed with intent.

Eric B keeps the beat sparse, letting the groove breathe and the words carry the weight. It’s hypnotic, lean, and unforgettable. “Paid in Full” didn’t just make noise—it gave the culture a mantra. If you know, you know. And most people do.

14. Put Your Hands Together (1988)

“I create em, take em, shake em, then make em clap to this / Most of you rappers, can’t even rap to this / I made it faster, you tried to master / Syncopated styles, words flowin’ after / Measures of metaphor definitions of more than one / Take it both ways, I’ll be here when you’re done….” 

“Put Your Hands Together” might sit in the shadow of Follow the Leader’s explosive opening trio, but it’s a standout in its own right—tight, confident, and driven by pure momentum. The beat is uptempo and sample-heavy, riding a sharp loop that pushes the energy without crowding the verses. Eric B lays down a rugged groove that feels built for movement, giving the track a head-nod pace from the jump.

Rakim meets that pace with laser focus. His delivery is cool as ever, but the bars are packed tight—technical, fluid, and structured with care. He weaves punchlines and rhythmic pivots into a stream that never breaks stride. There’s no hook to slow things down, no filler to stretch time. Just Rakim doing what he does best: controlling the mic with complete authority.

Tucked into the back half of the tracklist, “Put Your Hands Together” proves Follow the Leader doesn’t let up after its first hits. It’s classic Rakim—calm, sharp, and always one step ahead.

13. The Punisher (1992)

“Dangerous rhymes are performed like surgery / Cuts so deep you’ll be bleeding burgundy / My intellect wrecks and disconnects your cerebral cortex / Your cerebellum is next  / Your conscience becomes sub-conscious / Soon your response is nonsense…”

“The Punisher” is Rakim with the gloves off—direct, aggressive, and surgical in delivery. Over a brooding, stripped-down beat, he steps into battle mode, aiming every bar at would-be challengers. There’s no hook here, just a straight run of high-caliber lyricism designed to intimidate and impress in equal measure.

Rakim’s writing on this track is dense with imagery and wordplay. He stacks metaphors and similes with the precision of someone who knows exactly what he’s doing—and exactly who he’s addressing. Lines land like punches, sharp and calculated, building a portrait of an emcee who doesn’t flinch, doesn’t play, and doesn’t lose.

The instrumental, with its cold drum loop and sparse layering, keeps the spotlight locked on the verses. There’s no distraction—just a tense, focused backdrop for Rakim to go to work.

“The Punisher” is Rakim at his most combative. No posing, no gloss—just skill, control, and a clear message: stay in your lane.

12. As The Rhyme Goes On (1987)

“I’m the R to the A to the K-I-M / And If I wasn’t, then why would I say I am?”

“As the Rhyme Goes On” often gets overlooked in conversations about Eric B. & Rakim, but it’s one of the most quietly essential tracks on Paid in Full. The beat leans heavy on a thick, rolling bassline that gives the track its deep groove—slow-burning, hypnotic, and built to ride. It doesn’t try to overwhelm; it sets the mood and lets Rakim handle the rest.

And Rakim delivers. His flow is calm and measured, but the lyricism is anything but laid-back. He flips rhyme schemes mid-line, weaves in inner rhymes, and plays with structure in ways that were light-years ahead of the time. There’s a technical confidence here that feels effortless—he’s not trying to prove anything, just doing what comes naturally.

The title is almost literal. The rhyme goes on, and on, and you don’t want it to stop. “As the Rhyme Goes On” may not get the same attention as the hits, but it’s pure craft—and it still hits hard.

11. Don't Sweat The Technique (1992)

“Let’s trace the hits and check the file / Let see who bit to detect the style / I flip the script so they can’t get foul / At least not now, it’ll take a while / I change the pace to complete the beat / I drop the bass to MC’s get weak / For every word they trace it’s a scar they keep / Cause when I speak, they freak to sweat the technique…” 

“Don’t Sweat the Technique” opens with a horn riff that feels like a curtain rising—jazzy, sharp, and a little unexpected. It’s one of Eric B. & Rakim’s most rhythmically playful tracks, but it doesn’t dial down the message. Rakim steps in immediately with full control, using the mic not just to perform, but to instruct. This is rap as craft, and he’s the one writing the manual.

The production leans into jazz without losing its edge—snappy drums, upright bass, and a loose swing that gives Rakim plenty of room to work. His delivery is smooth, but every line hits with purpose. He breaks down his own technique while warning competitors not to try and copy it.

This isn’t just a flex—it’s a reminder. Rakim makes it clear that style, rhythm, and precision aren’t optional. They’re the standard. And he’s still the one setting it.

10. Move The Crowd (1987)

“Some of you been trying to write rhymes for years / But weak ideas irritate my ears / Is this the best that you can make / Cause if not and you got more, I’ll wait / But don’t make me wait too long cause I’m a move on / The dancefloor when they put something smooth on / So turn up the bass, it’s better when it’s loud / Cause I like to move the crowd…”

“Move the Crowd” is Rakim dissecting the art of emceeing with surgical calm. The beat is stripped down—steady drums, a simple loop, and a bassline that carries just enough weight to keep heads nodding. That space gives Rakim room to breathe, and he uses every inch of it to deliver a manifesto on lyrical control.

From the opening line, Rakim lets you know the mic is his tool and the crowd is his responsibility. He doesn’t raise his voice or waste words. Instead, he drops lines with clarity and poise, explaining—not just claiming—why he’s the one emcees should study. He turns confidence into craft, turning braggadocio into something sharper and more refined.

There’s no filler here, no filler language either. Just clean bars, tight structure, and a steady, thoughtful rhythm that mirrors the beat. It’s Rakim doing what he does best: commanding attention without needing to demand it. “Move the Crowd” is a mission statement, calmly delivered by the mic’s quietest authority.

9. In The Ghetto (1990)

“I learn to relax in my room and escape from New York / And return through the wound of the world as a thought / Thinkin how hard it was to be born / Me bein cream with no physical form / Millions of cells with one destination / To reach the best part as life’s creation / Nine months later, a job well done / Make way, cause here I come…” 

“In the Ghetto” brings a different weight than most of Eric B. & Rakim’s catalog. Produced by Large Professor, the beat is moody and minimal—haunting keys, a slow, looping bassline, and drums that drag like heavy steps through a long night. The stripped-down production leaves plenty of room for Rakim’s voice to settle in, and what he delivers isn’t swagger—it’s reflection.

Rakim walks the listener through the streets of New York with a reporter’s eye and a poet’s ear. His rhymes are tight and deliberate, filled with specific images and lived-in details. He’s not preaching or romanticizing—just observing. Poverty, crime, struggle—it’s all there, painted with a calm tone that makes the words hit even harder.

It’s one of the rare moments where Rakim steps back from the mic as a weapon and uses it more like a lens. “In the Ghetto” doesn’t need to be loud to make a statement. It’s a slow burn, lit with realism, grounded in experience, and delivered with an honesty that lingers.

8. Eric B. Is President (1986)

“I came in the door, I said it before / I never let the mic magnetize me no more / But it’s biting me, fighting me, inviting me to rhyme / I can’t hold it back, I’m looking for the line…” 

“Eric B. Is President” kicks down the door with one of the most iconic opening lines in Hip Hop history. From the first few bars, Rakim rewrites the rules—no shouting, no gimmicks, just a smooth, locked-in delivery that instantly draws you in. The beat, produced by Marley Marl, is sharp and layered: a James Brown loop at its core, with cuts, stabs, and samples shifting around Rakim’s steady cadence.

This track introduced a new kind of emcee—calm, calculated, and fully in control. Rakim’s voice doesn’t rise, but the authority in his tone is unmistakable. His rhymes are built like code, complex in structure but easy to follow if you’re listening close. Every word is placed with precision.

The production still feels dynamic four decades later. It’s full of switch-ups and unexpected turns, but never loses focus. “Eric B. Is President” didn’t just announce a duo—it helped set a new standard. It’s sharp, confident, and endlessly quotable. A true foundation for what would follow.

7. Lyrics Of Fury (1988)

“…The scene of a crime every night at the show / The fiend of a rhyme on the mic that you know / It’s only one capable, breaks the unbreakable / Melodies unmakable, pattern unescapable…” 

“Lyrics of Fury” is Rakim in full attack mode. The beat is tense and chaotic—layers of noise swirling behind pounding drums, creating a pressure-cooker effect that never lets up. It’s one of the darkest tracks in Eric B. & Rakim’s catalog, and Rakim matches that energy bar for bar.

His delivery is relentless—lines spill out in complex rhyme patterns, packed with internal rhymes and sharp turns in cadence. There’s no filler here. Every word is locked into the rhythm with laser focus. He flips metaphors, throws punches, and barely pauses for breath. The breath control alone is a masterclass.

This isn’t just lyrical skill—it’s control, technique, and stamina on full display. Rakim’s voice cuts through the noise like a scalpel. He’s not just rhyming—he’s building something dense, aggressive, and technical, and doing it with the calm of someone who knows exactly how far ahead he is.

“Lyrics of Fury” is a storm. Controlled chaos. And Rakim stays centered in the eye of it, never flinching, never slipping.

6. Know The Ledge (1992)

“Sip the juice cuz I got enough to go around / And the thought takes place uptown / I grew up on the sidewalk where I learned street talk / And then talked to all New York…” 

“Know the Ledge,” from 1992’s Juice soundtrack and Eric B. & Rakim’s final album Don’t Sweat the Technique, weaves a gritty tale of a young hustler navigating street life’s perils. Co-produced by Rakim with possible uncredited hands like Large Professor, the track slams with a hard-hitting beat—thumping drums, eerie keys, and a pulsing bassline that mirrors the film’s tension.

Rakim’s flow is surgical, his rhymes painting a vivid portrait of ambition and danger, each line laced with the weight of survival. His calm delivery contrasts the chaos, detailing a thug’s dreams and traps with cinematic clarity. Born in the duo’s twilight, as their partnership frayed, the song captures Rakim’s lyrical peak, his Five Percenter wisdom grounding the narrative.

The production’s raw edge amplifies the stakes, perfectly syncing with Juice’s story of a young Tupac Shakur. It’s a street epic, blending Rakim’s storytelling with beats that shake pavement, a fitting cap to their legacy.

5. Let The Rhythm Hit Em (1990)

“Of the arsenal, I got artillery, lyrics of ammo / Rhymes are rhythm, venom or give em piano / Bring a bullet-proof vest, nothing to ricochet  / Ready, aim at ya brain, that’s what the trigger say…” 

From the shadows of 1990’s Let the Rhythm Hit ‘Em, the title track emerges as a sonic storm, showcasing Eric B. & Rakim’s evolution into darker, denser territory. With production likely driven by the late Paul C. and Large Professor—Eric B.’s role more symbolic than hands-on—the beat haunts with deep bass, eerie synths, and relentless drums that strike like fists. Rakim’s flow glides over this ominous canvas, his rhymes a masterclass in precision, weaving intricate patterns with Five Percenter insight. Each verse pulses with authority, his calm delivery cutting through the track’s weighty atmosphere, every syllable landing with purpose.

Lines blend street wisdom with poetic finesse, Rakim proving unmatched in elevating rap to art. The production’s grim texture, a departure from the duo’s earlier funk, amplifies his voice, creating a soundscape both menacing and magnetic. Born as their third album fought for the spotlight, “Let the Rhythm Hit ‘Em” captures Rakim’s lyrical zenith against a beat that breathes menace. It’s a raw gem, often overlooked, where flow and rhythm collide, proving no one could match their alchemy at its peak.

4. I Ain’t No Joke (1987)

“I ain’t no joke, I used to let the mic smoke / Now I slam it when I’m done and make sure it’s broke / When I’m gone, no one gets on cause I won’t let / Nobody press up and mess up the scene I set” 

“I Ain’t No Joke,” the explosive opener of Eric B. & Rakim’s 1987 masterpiece Paid in Full, slams with unrelenting force, laying down the law for their debut. The track’s beat crackles—pounding drums, a taut bassline, and piercing horn hits that grab the ear and hold tight. Rakim’s flow redefines rap, his rhymes weaving tight, vivid boasts with a poet’s edge, each line delivered with icy command. His voice carries the weight of a Long Island MC claiming his throne, the hook—a blunt “I ain’t no joke”—doubling as a warning shot.

The production’s lean funk pulses with urgency, amplifying Rakim’s lyrical onslaught without overpowering it. Dropped when Hip Hop was still finding its voice, this cut marks a young Rakim, barely 19, flipping the script on what an MC could be. The track’s raw power sets the album’s tone, a bold first step for a duo poised to shift the genre’s trajectory. It’s a brilliant spark, pure and unyielding, where Rakim’s pen meets a beat that demands respect.

3. Follow The Leader (1988)

“Follow me into a solo, get in the flow / And you can picture like a photo / Music mix, mellow maintains to make / Melodies for emcees, motivates the breaks…” 

“Follow the Leader,” the title track from Eric B. & Rakim’s 1988 album, unfolds as a five-minute odyssey of lyrical brilliance, Rakim proving himself light-years ahead of his peers. With production credited to the duo, the beat weaves a hypnotic spell—swirling synths, crisp drums, and a jazzy bassline that pulses like a cosmic signal. Rakim’s flow is a marvel, his rhymes a tapestry of metaphors, guiding listeners on a surreal voyage from outer space to inner psyche. Each verse dazzles with intricate wordplay, his calm delivery masking a torrent of ideas, every line a new orbit. The track’s structure lets him glide, no hook needed—his voice alone commands.

Dropped in the duo’s creative stride, it captures Rakim at his peak, redefining rap’s ceiling with poetic precision. The production’s ethereal vibe amplifies his words, creating a soundscape that’s both vast and intimate. Listen once, it’s stunning; spin it again, and layers unfold—space metaphors morph into mind games. Like “Lyrics of Fury,” it’s a masterclass in advanced lyricism, Rakim bending language to his will. This is a journey, a lyrical masterpiece that demands repeat dives to grasp its depth, leaving no doubt why Rakim remains rap’s eternal guide.

2.  My Melody (1986)

“I take 7 emcees put ’em in a line / And add 7 more brothers who think they can rhyme / Well, it’ll take 7 more before I go for mine / Now that’s 21 emcees ate up at the same time” 

“My Melody,” a 1986 gem from Eric B. & Rakim’s debut Paid in Full, pulses with the raw genius that launched their legend. Produced by Marley Marl, the track lays down a hypnotic, deliberate beat—slow, thudding drums and a minimalist bassline that hit like a heartbeat in a Long Island basement. Rakim steps to the mic with elite command, his rhymes a cascade of intricate wordplay that rewrote rap’s playbook. His flow, smooth yet lethal, weaves vivid boasts, each line a masterstroke of rhythm and wit.

The standout “seven MCs” bars, where he dismantles a cipher’s worth of rivals, rank among Hip Hop’s most iconic, every syllable a lyrical dagger. Marl’s production, stark and unyielding, gives Rakim’s voice room to soar, its barebones grit amplifying the weight of his pen.

Dropped when rap was still young, “My Melody” captures a 19-year-old Rakim reshaping the art form, his delivery both meditative and merciless. The track’s slow grind doesn’t rush—it demands you lean in, catching every nuance of his wordplay, from internal rhymes to sly metaphors. Those “seven MCs” lines alone, dismantling foes with surgical flair, etch the song into rap lore, a blueprint for lyrical dominance.

There’s no flash here, just craft—Rakim’s bars and Marl’s beat in perfect lockstep, forging a classic that feels timeless yet urgent. It’s a cornerstone of Paid in Full’s revolution, where rap became poetry, not noise. Spin it, and you hear the spark of a new era, Rakim’s melody weaving through Marl’s rhythm like a street sermon, leaving no question why this duo’s early fire still burns in Hip Hop’s DNA.

1. Microphone Fiend (1988)

“I was a fiend… before I became a teen / I melted microphone instead of cones of ice cream / Music orientated so when Hip Hop was originated / Fitted like pieces of puzzles, complicated” 

“Microphone Fiend,” from Eric B. & Rakim’s 1988 album Follow the Leader, pulses with a timeless fire that’s grown into a Hip Hop cornerstone, despite its modest single run back then. Production, likely steered by studio aces like Marley Marl, crafts a hypnotic groove—funky bass, crisp drums, and a haunting organ riff lifted from Average White Band’s “School Boy Crush.” Rakim steps in like a poet possessed, his flow a torrent of vivid rhymes that paint the mic as his addiction, each line weaving hunger and mastery. His voice, steady yet electric, spins metaphors of devotion and dominance, every bar a love letter to rap’s craft. The beat’s soulful swing locks tight with his cadence, amplifying lyrics that equate MCing to a fiend’s craving, both relentless and revered.

Released in the duo’s prime, the track captures Rakim at his lyrical zenith, transforming rap into a spiritual quest. Lines cascade with internal rhymes and sharp imagery, his calm delivery belying a fierce obsession—nobody owned the mic like him. The production’s layered funk, with subtle scratches and a driving rhythm, feels alive, urging heads to nod while Rakim preaches. Though it didn’t storm charts in ‘88, its depth has since elevated it to legend status, a quintessential cut not just for Eric B. & Rakim but for the genre’s pantheon. It’s the sound of Long Island innovation, where turntables and wordplay forged new paths for Hip Hop’s soul.

This isn’t a fleeting hit—it’s a masterwork, its influence echoing in every MC who’s chased Rakim’s standard. Spin it, and you feel the mic’s pull, Rakim’s verses a blueprint for lyricism’s peak. “Microphone Fiend” thrives on its raw connection—man, mic, rhythm—no gimmicks needed. It’s Eric B. & Rakim distilled: innovative, commanding, eternal. What’s your take? Does it hit you the same, or is another track their true pulse?