I Got Next (1997)

• 1st Quarter - The Commentary
• 2nd Quarter - Free Throws
• The MC
• I Got Next - Neva Hadda Gun
• Heartbeat
• Step Into A World (Rapture's Delight)
• A Frien
• H.I.P.H.O.P.
• Halftime
• 3rd Quarter - The Commentary
• Blowe
• Real Hip Hop - Part II
• Come To Da Party
• Can't Stop Won't Stop
• Over Ya Head
• Just To Prove A Point
• 4th Quarter - Free Throws
• Step Into A World / Rapper's Delight (Remix) (Bonus Track) 

1st Quarter - The Commentary lyrics - KRS-One

Welcome to hip-hop culture

Where DJ-ing, MC-ing, graffiti art, breaking

and the philosophies are expressed everyday

within the inner cities of America, and the world

You are not doing hip-hop

You ARE hip-hop

Love yourself and your expression, you can't go wrong

2nd Quarter - Free Throws lyrics - KRS-One

Anybody in here right now with tape decks turn em on

and put em on record, I'll give you a second

I want to add authenticity to your tape

so when it's sold out in the street

you all can know this was a real party

These are poems circulating throughout the nation

everybody's bad and everybody's tough

but how many people are intelligent enough

to open up their eyes and see through the lies

discipline themselves, yourself to stay alive?

not many

That's why the universe sent me today on this stage

with this to to say

the rich will get richer and the poor will get poorer

and in the final hour many heads will lose power

what does the rich versus the poor really mean?

psychologically it means you got to pick your team

when someone says the rich gets richer

visualize wealth and put yourselves in the picture

the rich get richer, cause they work towards rich

the poor get poorer, cause their minds can't switch from the ghetto

let go, it's not a novelty

you could love your neighborhood without loving poverty

follow me, every mother, father, son, daughter

there's no reason to fear the New World Order

we must order the whole new world to pay us

the New World Order and the old state chaos

the Big Brother watching over you, is a lie you see

Hip-Hop could build it's own secret society

but first you and I got to unify

stop the negativity and control our creativity

the rich is getting richer, so why we ain't richer?

could it be we still thinking like niggas?

educate yourselves, make your world view bigger

visualize wealth and put yourselves in the picture!

The MC lyrics - KRS-One

Who am I? The MC, la-di da-di

I don't wear Versace, I wear DJ's out quickly at the party

Who am I? If you're like me hip hop is in your body

Who am I? THE MC!

When the jam is slow and you need a proceeder

Who am I? THE MC!

When you need a lyrical leader wit oratorical triple features

Who am I? THE MC!

When you need to rock your 3000-seat arena, best believe, uh

Who am I? THE MC!

When you need to get the word on the street wit demeanor

Who am I? THE MC!

I beg thee, let me splurt rhymes, I have plenty

Who am I? THE MC! Lord have mercy

I hit sudden like Hersey

always New like Jersey, stay thirsty

Who am I? THE MC!

Showin my authority, superiority

an artistic minority, now you startin me

Cuz party philosophy can only be carried out by

Who am I? THE MC!

No doubt, predicting far ahead what will set the party off immensely

with plenty of who? THE MC!

Trained at Rooftop, Red Zone, Roxy and Bentley's

Who am I? THE MC!

Gently move crowds with harmonious rhythm

Cuz the lyrics we give em they miss em

Who am I? THE MC! again, THE MC!

Her infinite power helps, oppressed people sent me to tell you

if you truly study lyrical flows and stay on your toes you will be

Who am I? THE MC!

and as an MC you will study verbal magic

but watch what you say cuz you'll attract it

control your subconscious magnet from pullin in havoc

Who am I? The MC!

Non-stoppin MC, hip hoppin MC

Verbal rockin, head knockin, quick droppin MC

I laugh cuz I mastered the craft MC

In sound clash I'm the first and last MC

It's sort of like Jim Carrey throwin that Mask to me

I black out and wake up to catastrophe

3 MC's dead from the sound blowin out massively, wow!

Who am I? The MC!

Untouchable, can't be caught off guard with fast tracks or slow tracks

Ass cracks get waxed to the max, MC's pack raps for all tracks

Indigenous cultures, Asians, Whites and Blacks

never missed it the linguistic of

Who am I? THE MC!

Meta-lyrical poetic mystic MC

Hearin the voice of an ancient spirit MC

Premeditated worder

Killin negative concepts out the mind of the observer MC

You deserve a break from counterfeits, frauds and fakes

claimin to be an MC for heaven sakes

Well, this MC done raised the stakes

under the stress from KRS

contracts and mental gats are bound to break

Who am I? THE MC! again the MC!

Conduct yourselves properly MC...

I Got Next - Neva Hadda Gun lyrics - KRS-One

It's meant to be evidently

When I rock so eloquently

Put the beat on and let me

Kill another wack emcee

Can't trust them, never test me

I practice and study

But I'm not in it for the money

But to me they look so funny

You can't test the teacher

The teacher won't reach intact

Through the speaker you're weaker, now sit your ass in the back

My lyrical you hear it, you fear it, you can't get near it

Cause the spirit eat Eric

And Eric your rhymes is wack

Like that, that, right back

Check it out!

Check it like this

Just skills You know you gots to build just skills

[A phone is dialed a man says hello and a woman starts speaking in Spanish]

You know you gots to build just skills, uh come on get down

Just skills You know we got to build just skills, come on get down

Yeah, uh come on

I got that rip track, flip that, underground rap

When I kick back

Most of what I'm hearin be weak

So I speak through beats and the streets as I teach

I impeach, through speech, each lyric leech I reach

Have a seat in the lecture

Nothin can protect you

Hard is the texture

Of the mic wreckin rock in your sector

Better than ever remember I am no beginner

I like to shout out Eric Skinner

Just skills, you know we gots to build just skills, come on a get down

Just skills, you know we gots to build just skills, come on a get down

Yo, we livin in a world of private jets and limousine

The fruit we eatin as we prepare tangerine to nectarine

See everybody livin in the same routine

We need the telephone, and yes, we need the fax machine

You listen to the sound, well I think you know it's me

Now, let me educate you with my concious poetry

Me want, me want, me want, me want, me want no wack rap

Me want, me want, me want, me want, me want no wack rap

Me love, me love, me love, me love, me love it when it's bad

See if you wack rap you ought be steppin out the back

See emcees on the microphone forgettin that they black

See hear them kick the lyrics that are holdin people back

But when you hear the teacher, KRS will find the track

You bound to see the light, and you don't want return back

So listen very closely to the secret scientist

I'm sending this one out to all my inner city kids

Now you supposed to be apostle what you have inside your head

Can make you more reliable, it can make you feel dead

Now listen very closely to the way I say this rhyme

It's the thing called the brain, and the thing called the mind

But I'm outta time

[Chorus: scratching on the word "can"]

Can I tell them that I really never had a gun?

No, you can't cause now you bouts to get done!

Can I tell them that I really never had a gun

Never had a gun, never had a gun?

Can I tell them that I really never had a gun?

No, you can't cause now you bouts to get done!

Can I tell them that I really never had a gun

Never had a gun, never had a gun?

On the block you just yap a whole lot

About the clothes that you got

Yo, or the gold that you got

Everybody sees all the friends in your Benz, yo, it's fat

But they ain't gettin money like that

Word to my brother Kenny, jealous one envy

The rich are few, while the poor, many

But you got gold cuffs and cars and stuff

You eatin well, but still in the ghetto you dwell

You know it's hot, so you make it known about your glock

To any perpetrator tryin to blow up your spot

You grab the microphone and talk a good ramble

You the hardcore outlaw, criminal, vandal

Burnin emcees like a candle, but you frontin

You ain't got nothin, with your life you gamble

One day you gamble up snake eyes

Talkin all that junk about you don't take dives, you take lives

Nobody on the block tries, cause you claim you got powerful ties

So at the red light you arrive

And to your surprise you get heffed up with just two steak knives

You're terrified, they take your Benz, and what makes things worse

You ain't got gun the first

[Chorus]

Heartbeat lyrics - KRS-One (feat. Angie Martinez, Redman)

[Redman]

Alright everybody move back from the ropes

If you don't move back we're gonna turn this music off

and that's my word, move back!

Word is bond let's get this shit goin

Word up, it's the Funk Doc in the house

say hell yeah! HELL YEAH!

Say fuck yeah! FUCK YEAH!

Word up, it's the Funk Doc Spock you don't stop

It's my man KRS you don't stop

It's the girl Angie you don't stop

With the hah haha ha haha hah!!

[Angie Martinez]

It's the Butter Pecan Rican speakin deletin

other radio jocks that think they competin

they pre-sweetened, like candy, I'm hot like pepper

Big up to Sandy but my name is Angie

Martinez, what a true microphone fiend is

Steppin up lovely with MY, AD-IDAS

through your speakers, representin

boriquas, and all hip-hop rhyme seekers

You may think I'm crazy right, but I'm crazy hype

Slay this nice y'all, everytime Angie grab the mic

I jams it right tonight, not the hardest

But peep the style of this Puerto Rican Goddess

[Redman]

Aiyyo yo yo yo, stop the music!

Aiyyo back up off the ropes, man, word up!

Yo get from the off the ropes

Now aiyyo yo yo, KRS-One, come again the selector!

[KRS-One]

It's been a long time but we made it, you waited

You gettin frustrated cause these MC's in trainin

Skills on the mic for a royalty save it

Pullin down rap so that others can't make it

They can't fake it in front of KRS they naked

That same old MC trend I'm here to break it

The highly conceptional multidirectional

Hot in ninety-seven so I guess I'm flexible

Rap relieve stress so yes I guess it's medical

All your wrecking and raping is still theoretical

Redman, you know you must understand (Whatup?)

Redman, you know you gots to understand (Hah! Whatup love?)

Angie, rockin with the one BDP (Ha, haha)

Representin right now at Hit Factory

[Redman]

One two hah, and you don't quit

It's Kris and Angie with the ultimate

One two hah, and you don't quack

It's Funk Doc smoke weed and don't smoke crack

Hahaha, hah, and you don't quit

Hoohahhahah, and you don't quit

I rock jams like, Samsonites with mics

Stage two boomin system and flood the lights

The lyrical, fo'-fo's lettin off like suppose

Reggie Reg is rockin on the ra-dioooo!

Hahh, huh, the oooh-child too chill

Caps peeled, Someone In My Bed like Dru Hill

Raise em up, cause I feel my spot can't be touched

No time for the Pauline jack, hit the clutch

Shotgun what?? It's the high exalted

Ruler of the buddha, the cash make my pockets

stick out like a tumor, for the consumers

I get busy with La Pluma, detonate the bomb

to make you hibernate sooner, certified luna-tic

My click run deeper than Charlie Tuna

Kahunas, raw for the able key movers

all over the hood like them Crooked I coolers

Bang maneuvers, from Jerz to Vancouver

Back to the Bronx with heartbeats ample looped up

I Blastmast like Kris, funk abyss

like a phone chauvenist with a Roley on the wrist

Sike! I can afford it, less I slaughtered

three platinum niggaz and none of em prerecorded

KRS-One need to be runnin for office

So Butter Pecan Rican - tell them to get off his

Step Into A World (Rapture's Delight) lyrics - KRS-One

[Intro/Chorus: sung to the tune of Blondie's "Rapture"]

Step into a world (Klaka klaka, klaka klaka!)

Where there's no one left (Buku, buku! Alla de massive!)

But the very best (Klaka, bo bo, BDP crew, bo bo bo bo!)

No MC can test [cut and scratch of KRS saying "but one"]

Step into a world, where hip-hop is me

Where MC's and DJ's

Build up their skills as they play every day

For the, rapture

Yeah, what what!

Yes yes y'all, ya don't stop, KRS-One, rock on!

Yes yes y'all, ya don't stop, KRS-One, rock on!

I'm bout to hit you wit that tradional style of cold rockin

Givin options for head knockin non stoppin

Tip-toppin lyrics we droppin but styles can be forgotten

so we bring back the raw hip-hoppin

Just like the records and tapes you be coppin

Cop some breakdancin, boogie poppin, and lockin

Tic tockin, guaranteed to have you clockin

We only get better and only better we have gotten

This type of flow don't even think about stoppin

Beware, the length of the rhyme flow can be shockin

All music lovers in the place right now

That never understood the way that KRS got down

Yo I'm strictly about skills and dope lyrical coastin

Relying on talent, not marketing and promotion

If a dope lyrical flow is a must

You gots to go with a name you can quickly trust

I'm not sayin I'm number one, uhh I'm sorry, I lied

I'm number one, two, three, four and five

Stop wastin your money on marketing schemes

and pretty packages pushin dreams to the beams

A dope MC is a dope MC

With or witout a record deal, all can see

And that's who KRS be son

I'm not the run of mill, cause for the mill I don't run

Yes yes y'all, ya don't stop, KRS-One, rock on!

Yes yes y'all, ya don't stop, KRS-One, rock on!

[Chorus]

Yeah, yeah

Everybody on the mic in the party sound alike

until I recite, in black and white what's right

Let me take flight, my style is TIGHT AN GOOD

TIGHT AN GOOD, come is it TIGHT AN GOOD

Old styles I pass dat, slow down on fast rap

All in yo' ass crack, old King go Blast dat

Conjure to ask dat, hyper type of flashback

I publish like ASCAP lyrics for hand clap

No past rappin, youth trackin, talent lackin

MC's more worried about their financial backin

Steady packin a gat as if something's gonna happen

But it doesn't, they wind up shootin they cousin, they buggin

I appear everywhere and nowhere at once

I know my style is bumpin, even though some people front

It's the God of rap, you heard of it

The one that rhymes toward the sky givin airplanes mad turbulence

In rap tournaments, I reign permanent

Don't you think by now the number one spot I'm not concerned with it

The course of rap I'm turnin it

Back to that good old fashioned way of getting cash money by earning it

No bogus hocus pocus, I bring back to focus

Skills if you notice my position is lotus

Now quote this, MC's are just hopeless

Thinkin record sales make them the dopest

Yes yes y'all, ya don't stop, KRS-One, rock on!

Yes yes y'all, ya don't stop, KRS-One, rock on!

[Chorus]

A Frien lyrics - KRS-One

The beat was sposed to drop right there

The beat was sposed to drop right there

The beat was sposed to drop right there

Yeah yeah yeah... uhh

I send this one out, to my right hand man

or mens, or womens, the whole crew

The real fam

[Chorus:]

We can count the dough or kick a flow

or chill out watchin videos

or actin really silly yo but really doe

all that can end...

Whether at the bar with superstars

or cruisin in the trooper car

I really don't care who you are

All I really need is a friend

If we can't have trust then you can't hang with us

We respond to those who show respect with respect

We respond we connect on the same deck

same intellect, my man, never shifty, thinks quickly

If you can't understand, we boys we boys

We could stand on the corner with a hat sellin toys

It ain't about your Benz I hope it ain't about mine

my man, I be dissin in my freestyle rhyme

Gettin G's around the world, I can trust you with my girl

my man, we chillin at the jam, what's the plan?

I'm not a yes man and none of my friends are yes men

or women, I'm drivin, I see my peeps yo get in

Where you fit in? True friends are quick to sit

in the beginning of all trouble, and when your bankroll doubles

Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble

Still I got my own space like Hubble

[Chorus]

Cause don't nobody care about us, all they do is doubt us

Until we blow the spot then they all wanna crowd us

and wanna shout us, but you my man from way back

I just gots to say that, actin large I don't play that

But I can't say that, where I play at isn't fast-paced

A friend can acquire the taste to become two-faced

And that's a disgrace there ain't nothing you can say to us

When the kid you grew up with betrays your trust

When we used to ride the bus we had trust

Now we cash checks and drive Lex, and can't show respect to one of us

Yo the heads I hang with ain't tryin to just get

what they can get, sit quickly backstabbin the click

I roll thick, but only some are friends really

down to the end, my right hand men and women

Mutual support, from the beginning

Been in, exactly what I've been in

[Chorus]

Back to back we attack corporate America

Gettin fees that amount to G's in every area

You my man I ain't gotta drag you along

You pull your own weight, yeah you definitely got it goin on

I don't see nothin wrong wit a little bumpin car system

thumpin, between the crew we always got sump'un

But if we had nuttin no frontin whatever

We'd still be crew you and me, me for you together

Word, fake people ain't worth a turd

They only want to be your friend because of what they overheard

I send this record to the well respected

Friends that I've collected, I hope I am what you expected

Yeah, so check it, so check it

[Chorus]

H.I.P.H.O.P. lyrics - KRS-One (feat. Thor-El)

[KRS] Yeah that’s the one - yo

[Thor-El] Just just check your mic

[Verse 1: Thor-El]

So you wanna be the million dollar man, kid what’s your plan

Make a deal with the devil settle for a hundred grand

Not enough I call your bluff, hit you with the stuff

Deal with this and think you’re tough, gimme a call when things get rough

You get no Vette and, if I could stay leaded

I’m leavin rappers one-legged from fakin like the prosthetic

you’re artificial by cripple, rap is like your pistol

Grim Reaper, I got the whistle, death I pull no tissue

Hit you, like the Mac-11, MC’s subtract by seven

Callin callin for the reverand, lookin at hell like heaven

I’m on the map, makin it like the crazy on the track

Oh what the hell I get my mail while I raid you til it crack

[Chorus: KRS and Thor-El]

H, I, P, H, O, P, we are

H, I, P, H, O, P, we are

[Verse 2: KRS-One]

C’mon, uhh

Dead two in the head before some A&R tell me

I must give up the streets you lift the company can sell me

What’s the sense in being large if you can’t take a risk?

Thinkin a risk upon a disc means you’re written off the list

I’m not sayin you can’t have your fame and glory just don’t bore me

when I come to see you live, and I paid twenty-five

That’s, crazy loot Kris is saying I don’t play those games

Killing Rhyme Sessions is the meaning of my name

But don’t call my name in vain, cause I will appear

And your livest MC will get slain right here

See I do the homework, and I do the extra credit

You could sell a million records, and still can’t set it

Cause the Lex or Beem is probably just the matches and a Jeep so

I’m sure your rap career now if they come before your people

Ohh Lord!! You can’t be thinkin about Billboard

With the mic cord, and several thousand people just bored

Being dope live is like being insured for life

You always get called back twice, you are

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3: Thor-El, KRS-One]

I burn like hy-dra-cho-loric and my city got itty

He’s terrible, Thor-El’s incredible and terrific

Is it, that you’re under the influence of local obvious

Rappers that die, but why, explain the obvious

No stoppin this lyrics from the esophagus rockin strictly the hip-hop populace

Halftime lyrics - KRS-One

Right now as we rockin they shootin outside

Now we have got to chill

We have got to chill

We can't have no gunfire because hip-hop can't build

Let's leave all the shootin and the violence outside

I know there's some people in here, armed to the teeth

But understand...

It is the conciousness behind the gun

that determines if the gun is positive or negative

So let's not blame it on no pistols, no guns, no gats

Let's blame it on the conciousness of the mind holding the gat

3rd Quarter - The Commentary lyrics - KRS-One

For those interested in higher knowledge

on issues of health, wealth, and self-mastery

you are urged to register with the Temple of Hip-Hop

by filling out the attached registration form and questionnaire

located on the album's pull-out panel

And here now, another KRS classic

Blowe lyrics - KRS-One (feat. Redman)

[Intro: Redman]

Hey baby bring me something to drink in here

Sit down and watch a little TV.

[KRS-1:]

(static) Yo they comin'. It's crazy but I know it they comin'. Maybe not

lately I feel it coming. I knew it, they comin'. (static) This just in.

President (static) I guarentee (static) Jim...Jimmy, Jimmy wake up. Jimmy!

(static) Only the Lord can save (static) 5.99 no obligation (static) Let me

start to rock this mic (static) Now the polar bear hybernates (static) And

and what was going through your mind right now.

[KRS-1:]

Look aat these weak MC's getting G's

Never wore BVD's or even bellbottom Lees

Please, with these fantisies about you selliing keys

When you know you bees in front of the TV eatin' grilled cheese

On your knees you know my steez

Kris is nice with theses M-I-Cs

I'm Poison like BBD the plot thickens while I be hitten

And lyric lickin', flippin' any mix and over the skippin'

And cable clippin', still sickenin'

Even though some people ain't admitting

Through they system I keeps it kickin'

And tippin' the scale I pay tuiton not bail

Drink water not ale, MC Hammer hits it right on the nail

I can't fail with my 7 stripes

Strike one pierces the lung over the drum MC's become dumb

Like "um?" They numb, bite the tongue over the bass drum

I am D the MC like Run, spittin' lyrics for fun

And for a sum of the bread crumb

You missed when you swung, I connected whole hum

Another one done underestimated KRS-1, yeah so...

[Hook:]

[Redman:] Say blowe

[KRS-1:] If you really want true skill

[Redman:] Say blowe

[KRS-1:] If you want the hip hop to build

[Redman:] Say blowe

[KRS-1:] We rock it all year round

[Redman:] You better cool the F out before we go up in your mouth

[KRS-1:]

It's just beguuuun, to bubble

KRS-Onnnne spells trouble

On the mic soooon there is no double

I emerge from under the rumble

Count the truth poetic construction, audio abduction

Showbiz production for wack lyric reduction

And fly rhyme instruction keep the party hoppin'

Keep the DJs buggin' for the orthodox

Non Xerox hip hop chatter box

It was dope first crack out the box with Scott LaRock

How MC's are washed up like sweat socks

KRS-1 makes the heads nod

[Hook]

[Redman:] KRS-1

[KRS-1:] Yes my son

[Redman:] Tweet tweet [x2]

[KRS-1:] You know they can't compete, ain't that right

[Redman:]

No doubt. You better cool the F out before we go up in your mouth

[KRS-1:]

When it's my turn kid, look at what you done did

Like my head is dreadable you edible

I kick incredible shit, for my poeple

I'm jackin' these like me so sue and Stretch like Bobbito overloops

While you sittin' on stoops I'm rockin' mics for U.S. troops in group

You screwed up, oops, I can read a true crook

Like I can read a good book

I'm hooked on hip hop culture

Look at the tip top lyrical structure

Floatin' like a soap bubble that you don't wann puncture

Or rupture, I write what I udder, mother mother mother

There's too many of us dying still trying and not doin'

Not suceeding still pursueing what you doing?

What you doing? What you doing?

The session is started departed on schedule

I beg you please lookover my lyrical menu

What other can't do I can do

Enhancing 7 levels of your mental

I dismantel stress, you're listening to the advanced lyrical best

Worldwide qualified to administer any MC test

Stop guessin' class is in full session

Now Showbiz show 'em how

Real Hip Hop - Part II lyrics - KRS-One (feat. Mic Vandalz)

[KRS-One]

Hah! They not ready, uhh uhh

Set it off, South Bronx

Set it off, uhh, check it

The real hip-hop, is over here

The real hip-hop, is over there

The real hip-hop, is over here

The real hip-hop, is over there

It's a demo, it's a demo, it's a demo, it's a demo

Steppin out the limo, KRS-One, gettin in you

From the get-go kiddo throw em out the window

flip em like a nickel

Peep the hottest single

He'll sink them like the S.S. Minnow

That same kid that rocks the Benz rocks the Pinto

Watch my signal, I rock the rap game like Nintendo

Hey diddle, diddle, get played now like a fiddle

I watch you wiggle, in front of the audience that was fickle

Now you can't make a nickle, the sour pickle you are

KRS-One, ninety-seven superstar

I got one thing to say and let me make this clear

Everywhere, now throw your hands in the air

The real hip-hop, is over here

The real hip-hop, is over there

The real hip-hop, is over here

The real hip-hop, throw your hands in the air!

[Mic Vandalz]

Yo, been rockin rooftops, knahmsayin?

Internat', yaknahmsayin?

KRS, vandalizin, yaknahmsayin? With the Mic Vandalz

Boogie Down, Uptown, yaknahmsayin?

It's dope, check it out

[KRS-One]

When I ain't doin a show, or bringin all the money in

or at the studio, or home studyin

I'm checkin out Funkmaster Flex on cassette

as he wrecks turntable sets with many subjects

Huff now that's the Blastmaster connects, the larynx

to a high-tech mic set, you get what you get

Tech and Sway, index of singles is complex

On Technics sets, he wrecks, collects a fee next

While you rejects practice, suffix and prefix

Hip-Hop I reads it, and mark your album incompleted

I seen it, saw it, back in eighty-five

Platinum rappers yo that can't rock live

Their mental facilities, lack the ability

for lyric agility - battle? You're killin me

The real hip-hop, is over here

The real hip-hop, is over there

The real hip-hop, is over here

The real hip-hop, throw your hands in the air!

The real hip-hop, is over there

The real hip-hop, is it over here?

The real hip-hop, yo it's over there

The real hip.. now throw your hands in the air!

[Mic Vandalz]

Throw your hands in the air (get loose now)

Throw your hands in the air (get loose now)

Throw your hands in the air (get loose now)

Aiyyo I'm breakin, in this rap thing, I've been waitin

Ready for the world, rude like awakening

Homo sapien, [?] rock every stadium

Scholars and players, here to Las Vegas

Embrace the papers, land of money makers

Brothers hate us cause the brothers ain't us

Yo yo, from coast to coast I'ma overdose you and BDP you

and Kris-Kross your mind, wouldn't wanna be you

A Uptown thing, world premier

Throw your hands in the air baby it's on

How many MC's wanna get they rep torn?

From Joe to Cage and mics in my juvenile days, I abuse

The mic get lifted, the crowd gets amused

I got next.. you lose!

Come To Da Party lyrics - KRS-One (feat. Joe)

[KRS] One, two, three..

[Joe]

Come to da party, come to the dance

Everyone is fightin

So they fired up, up and away

Come to da party, come to the dance

To pull out the vinyl

so they fired up, up and away

[KRS-One]

Yeah, yeah

Hardcore lyric comin at ya they attackin ya

Rappers bite like Dracula the soul of hip-hop

I'm puttin back in ya, with the South Bronx vernacular

Bound to put the crack in your armor, I am much sharper

than a lot of other mic rockers, slightly eccentric

but everything's authentic, when I said, "I'm hip-hop," I meant it

Emcees wanna debate the issue, but false though

If they studied they would see that they are hip-hop also

Hip-Hop you can't do it, you gots to be it

You can't confine it, you have to free it, so you can see it

as your expression, and learn the lesson, on life in ghetto sections

and what you feel is the forward direction

for black people, not these Star Wars save that for R2-D2

I got five fingers like Bruce Lee do

And with the five fingers I grab microphones and bring the

stinger to DJ's, rappers, singers and beer drinkers

This MC's a thinker, unlike others but I won't diss yaz

You're still my brothers and sisters, Kris is

ONE aspect of hip-hop rap

Negative rap, positive rap, forget that black it's a trap

to set us back, concentrate on various rap talents

Presently the rap radio format is unbalanced

You either got the player, or the concious rhyme sayer

all day, on your radio, not with a different flavor

Someone has to DIE before you hear a concious record

People don't like gangsta rap, but concious rap, they don't respect it

The truth is people are afraid of black youth

Our expressions, our lessons and gold teeth, so..

[Joe]

Come to da party, come to the dance

Everyone is shoutin

So they fired up, up and away

Come to da party, come to the dance

Everyone is singin

so they fired up, up and away

Can't Stop Won't Stop lyrics - KRS-One

Open a de herb gate sellin pure ganja

Babylon come but they undercova

They never really want me stop sell ganja

(They just wanna take a cut of what you make so far!)

But I'm not havin it, I load the SLR

Pack the ganja BOOM! They break down the door

Pop-pop! T'ree shots, exchanged at close range

Out of three Babylon, me hit one in the brain

Pop-pop! Two shots hit da window pane

I exchanged four shots, I drop and feel pain

but I'm not hit, into the bathroom I crawl

I look out the window, it's a one story fall

I'm fallin, hit the ground and start crawlin

Soon I'm walkin 'round, blendin in with the crowd

Another day, I got away, I gotta fix this problem someday

But the very next day...

[Chorus: x2]

Can't stop, won't stop - sellin mad izm

All comeptition - I gots to get wit 'em

Me nah go jail and me nah go prison

(Take it to his face kid, diss him!)

I'm in another herb gate like a superstar

Eleven A.M., things are safe so far

I used to worry 'bout the competition on the block

But now the competition on the block is the cops

And even block watch doesn't know where we lay

Well.. ("Open up! It's the D.E.A.!")

Aww man, just when I went for more lead

The door opens up, I got a glock to my forehead

("Get down! Get on the floor!") I felt the stick, I thought I was dead

But I woke up instead in a cell layin on my bed

I lay back down, then I heard the crack sound

Two D.T.'s came in and laid they glocks down

One was whistlin a love song, as he put some gloves on

I thought to myself, damn something's wrong

Boom bap! Boom ba,p against my head

I fell back on the bed, down to his feet

The pain was insane but the hit was sweet

Cause these dumb-ass cops punched me right by the heat

The glock, two shots, three shots they screamin

Then someone said... ("Hey wake up kid, you're dreamin!")

I said, "Yo dreamin?! That nightmare was hell"

But as I look around, I was still in my cell

Damn, I got myself caught up in a jam

The D.T. that woke me up was like, WHAT?!

I wiped the saliva, off my mouth

The D.T. said.. ("Let's make a deal") No doubt!

No question, now we started up the session

No need for guessin, yes they want my supplier

I said, what makes you think there's anyone higher?

He said.. ("Don't be a God damned liar!")

You killed three D.T.'s yesterday, you heard me

But still the cops you knocked off yea was dirty

Now the whole investigation is federal

We want you to point out, the rest of the cops that are criminal

He continued to say, you can't think it through

This whole drug game is BIGGER than you!

Follow our plan man and you'll be free

Let me explain one thing so you can see, we

[Chorus]

Now I'm back in the herb gate, all wired up

Constantly thinkin about bein tied up

Snap out of it - I'm thinkin, "Damn we like elves!

The federal and local cops got wars with themselves;

and I'm in the middle, and can't solve the riddle.

My nose is runny.." [knock at door] ("Let me get a 20!")

A 20 of the green or a 20 of the brown?

("Gimme the whole pound, clown, or duck down!") [gunfire]

God damn, God damn, here we go again

But this time I'm set up by my federal friend

Suddenly I hear.. ("Yo, move from the door!") [two shots]

Followed by the shot sounded like a four-four [two shots]

After the violence, then there was silence

Then I heard.. ("Hey yo it's us, open up the door!")

But rule number one in this game is self-reliance

So I pickd up the mini-mac in case they wanted more

The door opened up, the feds said WHATTUP?

They was stickin you up, so they had to get bucked

Suddenly a sense of trust came over me

I thought to myself, "Well soon I'll be free!"

But as I turned around, I heard the gun go click [clik-clak]

I said wait, but it was too late - [GUNSHOT]

Over Ya Head lyrics - KRS-One

But am I over ya head?

Am I over ya head?

But am I over ya head?

Yo am I over ya head?

But am I over ya head?

Am I over ya head?

Well am I over ya head?

Yo am I over ya head?

Huh? What? Where? Who?

What? Whattyathinkinabout

when who says what when how

You can't maybe follow my style

You be the child, I be the teacher

Smile, who said when, what

mouth not shut, what?

Whenever however whenever

whatever the cut

How you maybe could you ever

believe, that you could so quickly achieve

these crafts, please laugh at his stupid ass

upon your knees in glass

You lust, for everything but trust

So we bust back, with conciously charged art

with a mic instead of a brush

But am I over ya head?

Am I over ya head?

But am I over ya head?

Yo am I over ya head?

Am I over ya head?

Yo am I over your head?

Yo am I over ya head?

Listen..

Yes, us must trust us, who? Us must trust

not fuss with us, us must trust us discuss trusting us

Us must trust us, who? Us must trust

not fuss with us, us must trust us discuss thus trusting us

Trusting us, us must trust discuss

Discuss not trusting us must not fuss

Us with us means us discussing trusting us

Us must trust us, who? Us must trust

not fuss with us, us must dicuss trusting us

But am I over ya head?

Yo am I over your head?

But am I over ya head?

Just To Prove A Point lyrics - KRS-One

Tell me right now, tell me what’s wrong

Please tell me something before I’m gone

It seems like we have come to the end

Should I be listening to all my friends

Is it true what they say?

Is it true what they say?

Is it true what they say?

Is it true what they say?

I’M HEARING THINGS LIKE YOU’LL BE SLEEPING CREEPING BEHIND MY BACK

YOU MIGHT BE LAUGHIN MIGHT BE JOKIN BUT I’M THINKIN IT’S WACK

IF WE ARE OVER LET’S BE OVER AND LET’S LEAVE IT AT THAT

SEE I CAN’T TRUST YOU ANYMORE BECAUSE YOUR LOVE IS AN ACT

Is it true what they say?

Is it true what they say?

Is it true what they say?

Just who do you, think I really am?

One of your mindless and stupid friends?

Why can’t you simply tell me the truth?

So I can hold you, or cut you loose?

I’M NOT THE TYPE TO LISTEN TO WHAT EVERYBODY WILL SAY

BUT MORE AND MORE IT’S SEEMIN THAT I CAN’T TRUST YOU ANYWAY

YOU MAKE ME THINK THAT I MUST SLEEP WITH SOMETHIN OVER MY HEAD

FOR FEAR I WAKE UP IN A POOL OF BLOOD AND PROBABLY DEAD

HOW ARE WE LIVIN? HOW ARE WE LIVIN? IT SEEMS

YOU ARE NOT GIVIN WHAT YOU GAVE IN THE BEGINNING

HOW ARE WE LIVIN? HOW ARE WE LIVIN? IT SEEMS

YOU ARE NOT GIVIN WHAT YOU GAVE IN THE BEGINNING

Is it true what they say?

Is it true what they say?

Is it true what they say?

I’M HEARING THINGS LIKE YOU’LL BE SLEEPING CREEPING BEHIND MY BACK

YOU MIGHT BE LAUGHING MIGHT BE JOKING BUT I’M THINKING IT’S WACK

IF WE ARE OVER LET’S BE OVER AND LET’S LEAVE IT AT THAT

SEE I CAN’T TRUST YOU ANYMORE BECAUSE YOUR LOVE IS AN ACT

I’M NOT THE TYPE TO LISTEN TO WHAT EVERYBODY WILL SAY

BUT MORE AND MORE IT’S SEEMIN THAT I CAN’T TRUST YOU ANYWAY

YOU MAKE ME THINK THAT I MUST SLEEP WITH SOMETHIN OVER MY HEAD

FOR FEAR I WAKE UP IN A POOL OF BLOOD AND PROBABLY DEAD

Probably dead!

Probably dead.

Probably dead...

4th Quarter - Free Throws lyrics - KRS-One

Yeah, listen to the lyrics

We are the ones prophesized to return

My main concern is for all of you to learn

How to live, yes through the lyrics I give and send my friend

This age is coming to an end

Not the world, but the age is ending

Ending, listen to the astrological message I'm sending

I'm sending, tell em

Truth is truth, whether or not you like me

We are living now in the age of Pisces

When Pisces is over, at the year two thousand

When the Sun of God, changes his house and

enters the Age of Aquarius

The Sun of God as man is hilarious (okay)

When you think of Jesus, think of the Sun

The flaming Sun, that's where they stole this concept from

Stop believing and read your bible logically

The new testament is really old astrology

Jesus is the son of God no lie

But they might be talking about the Sun up in the sky

The Sun, that hangs on the cross of the zodiac

The zodiac with twelve signs to be exact

Each sign is a house, and you should keep in mind

Each house equals, a period of time

The time, two thousand years and that's a fact

It's called an age or a house in the zodiac

The twelve disciples, are twelve months of reason

The four gospels signify the four seasons

When Jesus fed the multitude with two fishes

It signified the Age of Pisces, not fish or dishes

If you read the bible astrologically it's clearer (no doubt)

The next age will be the age of the water-bearer

It's called the Age of Aquarius (word)

When logic and truth will take care of us

So in this age, of spiritual dignity

You'll see a rise in femininity

and creativity, meshed with masculinity

You got to get with me, this is your true her-story (rrryyy!)

Do you wanna go higher...

Step Into A World / Rapper's Delight (Remix) lyrics - KRS-One (feat. Puff Daddy)

[Intro: Puff Daddy]

I'ma make you dance

And we won't stop, cause we can't stop [x3]

Don't stop

KRS-One

Puff Daddy

Bad Boy remix

Hit me baby

[Verse 1: Puff Daddy, KRS-One]

Hear the sound of my money machine

See the 600 Benz see the chrome rims gleam

See the teacher KRS and the Puff Daddy

See the young black and famous Rich like Matty

With the power and the knowledge at our fingertips

With a style make the ladies wanna lick they lips, shake they hips

Shake they rumps, bass thump

Believin they could fly by the way you jump, player, uhh

Hip-Hop mayor, fat rhyme sayer

From the Boogie Down to the Himilayas I'm

Comentating (say what?) illustrating (yeah)

Descriptions given, adjective expert (I hear you)

Let's work, til your neck hurt (oooh)

Like Bedwork I Rock Steady, you ain't really ready

for the teacher, just when you thought you had me licked

I come equipped with another hit, oh shit!

(I hear you, I hear you, I hear you, I hear you)

[Chorus:]

And we won't stop, cause we can't stop [x4]

Step into a world, where there's no one left

But the very best, no MC can test

Step into a world, where there's no one left

But the very best, no MC can test

[Verse 2: Puff Daddy]

Politic with the teacher (c'mon) as the hits reach ya

Puff Daddy and KRS-One, double feature (that's right)

Uptown diplomats, watch chips get stacked

So-and-so, this and that (uhh)

Just 'Show me the money!' Ain't nuttin funny (uh-huh)

Have you stuck on stupid broke feelin crummy (ahah)

Ain't no time for Girl 6

Cause I got a ten, holdin my stack of big Benz

Correographer causin your funky dope maneuver (say what?)

Bad Boy represent, keep it sewer

Killin You Softly wit my song

Call from the heist, I know y'all better think twice (what?)

about the still number one (uh-huh) South South Bronx (say what?)

At the Latin Quarter, dancin witcha daughter (ooh!)

You can't handle me, I keep it tight

With my Bad Boy family, that's right

[Chorus:]

And we won't stop, cause we can't stop [x4]

Step into a world, where there's no one left

But the very best, no MC can test

[Verse 3: KRS-One]

Uhh, uhh, South Bronx

You sitin and you wonderin, how we keep it comin in

KRS and Puff again to push it, and shove it in (that's right)

The neighborhood be buggin when we we comin in, rulin

(With more Wildcats than Rick Pitino, I mean yo)

Just Coolin', like Levert, I do work

They love me, thick with G. Simone, Puffy

Young black and educated, that's how we made it (oh yeah)

Study and bring the money in, you can't fade it

This scholar, gets the dollars

While these other scholars just holler (remix)

With no dinero, your zero (remix)

You think I care what you whisper

You got the wrong picture (remix)

I'm chillin with G. Simone eatin dinner (haha)

The 1997 winner, of your respect

High tech, you get the album or cassette (that's right)

And don't forget, while you listenin, skills I flaunt it

That Boogie Down Bronx shit, we on it

[Puffy]

Scott LaRock rest in peace, Biggie Smalls rest in peace

Step into a world

We love y'all, always and forever, and we won't stop

Where there's no one left

Cause we can't stop, and we won't stop

Where the very best

BDP, Bad Boy

No MC can test

Cause we can't stop, and we won't stop [x4]

Step into a world, where there's no one left

But the very best, no MC can test

[repeat last refrain to fade]

Rock on, Bad Boy, remix, for eternity baby, BDP rock on rock on..

KRS-One (1995)

• Rappaz R. N. Dainja
• De Automatic
• MC's Act Like They Don't Know
• Ah-Yeah
• R.E.A.L.I.T.Y.
• Free Mumia
• Hold
• Wannabemceez
• Represent The Real Hip Hop
• The Truth
• Build Ya Skillz
• Out For Fame
• Squash All Beef
• Health, Wealth, Self

Rappaz R. N. Dainja lyrics - KRS-One

[Verse 1:]

Blastmaster Kris I don't talk ish

Expand your conciousness and dismiss foolishness

No one is new to this or new to Kris

In hip-hop's atomic structure, I am the nucleus

That is the center of the group we/us

they/them/you, every squad every massive every crew

Dental floss is lost when a true rapper jumps off

The cash is incidental but not mental distract you off course

The style that I am kickin is like chicken

It will be bitten, rewritten, then performed for a $25 admission

Reviewed in The Source

You will listen then find somethin missin of course... it's skills

That's what you're fishin for, it's lost

I'm gettin too explicit, the track jingles

I won't do a wack album then remix it for my single

Kickin rhymes til I wrinkle, and my brown eyes twinkle

God called hip-hop for the nine-cinco

[Verse 2:]

Tasty like a souflee french croisant on Tuesday

Rappers be boo-tay

Goo-fy that's how they crew stay

Bitin whatever you say to boost they ego

We know the steelo, your whole character is foul

Makes me want to shoot a free throw, BLAOWW

From the git go, no, get go, my flow hits low

Wherever all the dope shit go, there's where my shit go

Bee-dee-bee-bo, skank, I think

Self with ya groups everyone else and the bank

Others like to bring the shottie to the party

I bring knowledge of self, you cure the mind, you cure the body

Some rappers like to come to the party, hopin to leave with somebody

check, I come with skills and I leave with your motherfuckin respect

Ahh yeah... so check, UH!

[Verse 3:]

New types of verbal hip-hop I bring

When you know you can sing BOY you know you can sing

I do not clutter up the airwaves, with stacks of useless facts

MC's trying to be macks, but acts like ignorant blacks

Freak that, I'll snap your back as it cracks

you will experience, loss or lack of balance

Stop the violence, fry from week to week like an allowance

All of you are cowards hiding behind the mask of MC

I remember, thinkin back to eighty-three

No video, no you had to be a real live MC

Now you younguns grow up buggin, any new jock you're huggin

weak production, let me tell you somethin

Any MC can battle for glory

But to kick a dope rhyme to wake up your people's another story

Act like you never saw me

Cause when it comes to lyrics, I'm in a different category

De Automatic lyrics - KRS-One (feat. Fat Joe)

Some fear de 'matic

Ah hah hah, heh heh heh, EHHH

Check it out

Some fear de 'matic, yes de automatic

Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it

De automatic, get de automatic

Tonight a rapper gwan die

Crazy MC's waste they time chasin millions

While KRS-One, holds the minds of the children

I'm buildin a followin of a hundred and forty-four thousand

Chosen few heads up in project housin

A true rapper, street rapper, rappin to the center

I enter any cipher, with tales of adventure

If rappers are ridin beats like cars, I'm bendin mad fenders

Put down your mic and surrender

Youse a pretender, Blastmaster KRS rules the pavement

Kickin Edutainment while you wait for your arraignment

Save it friend before your chest I cave it in

I got my way again, I'm classical like a fuckin Harley Davidson

How do you think I kick a lyrical style no and you figure

It's simple, I'm a rap God, and youse a nigga

Don't mean I'm bigger, it simply means I'm smarter

For starters, I come at you poetically harder

De automatic, get de automatic

Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it

De automatic, get de automatic

Tonight a rapper gwan die

Ha hah, fake ass rapper, how you think you got juice?

When you rock a pair of panties underneath your bubblegoose

(Word) KRS-One will fuck up parties dramatically

My reflex'll slap a wack rapper automatically

When you was home witcha mother, afraid of the dark

I was sleepin out in Prospect Park

Eatin one meal every 48 hours

Writin dope rhyme styles that you now devour

Don't you realize, that I'm all about survival

I got only friends cause I KILLED all my rivals

Show up at the rhyme recitals, took they titles

From eighty-six to ninety-six completes my first cycle

De automatic, get de automatic

Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it

De automatic, get de automatic

Tonight a rapper gwan die

I spent 40 days, and 40 nights in the wilderness

I'm hard, from head to toe yo there ain't no killin this

I wrote over 100 rap hooks

and sociological books, while you worried about your looks

Now you wanna enter the dragon in sound

But I've got the live club show locked down

Platinum and gold don't hold in my arena

You gots to keep it real on the mic, when they see ya

I manifest, in the West the East and overseas

The vision in rap is wack, and I don't know of these

I represent New York to be specific

The South Bronx, but in Japan I'm still gifted

I grab a jet and land on your set, what the fuck?

Twenty bucks for a rap show is still, twenty bucks

I start from eighty-six, and bring you into ninety-six

No gimmicks, tricks or lip-sync lyrics

De automatic, get de automatic

Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it

De automatic, get de automatic

Tonight a rapper gwan die

[Fat Joe]

Yeah yeah it's the God Fat Joe

Representin the motherfuckin South Bronx

With my nigga Kris, knockin off frauds

Motherfuckers wanna do what?

Big shout out to my nigga Kenny Parker

Ill Will, BDP crew for life nigga

Naughty Gotto, the Big French productions

Of course the TAT crew, my nigga Brim

The T.S. crew, and the whole Godsville

South Bronx represent nigga, uhh

The South Bronx, the South South Bronx

South Bronx, the South South Bronx

Yeah! Uhh!

MC's Act Like They Don't Know lyrics - KRS-One

[Intro]

Clap your hands everybody, if you got what it takes

Cos I'm KRS and I'm on the mic, and Premier's on The Breaks

[Verse 1]

If you don't know me by now I doubt you'll ever know me

I never won a Grammy, I won't win a Tony

But I'm not the only MC keepin' it real

When I grab the mic to smash a rapper, girls go "Illlll!"

Check the time as I rhyme, it's 1995

Whenever I arrive the party gets liver

Flow with the master rhymer, that's to leave behind

The video rapper, you know, the chart climber

Clapper, down goes another rapper

Onto another matter, punch up the data, Blastmaster

Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everybody

Call up KRS, I'm guaranteed to rip a party

Flat top, braids, bald heads or natty dread

There once was a story about a man named Jed

But now Jed is dead, all his kids instead

Want to kick rhymes off the top of they head

Word, what go around come around I figure

Now we got white kids callin' themselves niggas

The tables turned as the crosses burned

Remember You Must Learn

About the styles I flip and how wild I get

I go on like a space age rocket ship

You could be a mack, a pimp, hustler or player

But make sure live you is a dope rhyme sayer

[Verse 2]

This is what you waited all year for

The hardcore, that's what KRS is here for

Big up Grand Wizard Theodore, gettin' ill

If you see then ya saw I'm in your grill with mad skill

MC's can only battle with rhymes that got punchlines

Let's battle to see who headlines

Instead of flow for flow let's go show for show

Toe for toe, yo, you better act like you know

Too many MC's take that word 'emcee' lightly

They can't Move a Crowd, not even slightly

It might be the fact that they express wackness

Let me show ya whose ass is the blackest

I flip a script a little bit, you ride the tip and shit

Too sick to get with it, admit you bit, your style is counterfeit

Now tone it down a bit

My title you will never get, I'm too intelligent

I'll send your family my sentiments, my style is toxic

When I rock and shock and hip hop it unlock your head, I knock it

It split quick from the lyric

Direct hit, perfect fit, you can't get with it

[Verse 3]

Some MC's don't like the KRS but they must respect him

Cos they know this kid gets all up in they rectum

Slappin' and selectin' em, checkin' em, disrespectin' em

Just deckin' em, deckin' em, deck-in' em

Who in their right mind can mimic a style like mine?

I design rhyme and get mine all the time

MC's standin' on the sidelines, always dissin'

When I roll up and rush their crew they start bitchin'

I don't burn, I don't freeze, yet some MC's

Believe they could tangle with the likes of these

Cross your t's and dot your i's whenever I arrive

Wide, magnified, live like the ocean tide

You dope, you lied, I reside like artefacts

On the wrong side of the tracks, electrified

Comin' around the mountain, you run and hide

Hopin' your defence mechanism can divert my heat-seeking lyricism

As I spark mad iszm

The 1996 lyrical style's what I give 'em

Ah-Yeah lyrics - KRS-One

Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you see a devil down

Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you take the devil's crown

Ah yeah, stay alive all things will change around

Ah yeah, what? Ah yeah!

So here I go kickin science in ninety-five

I be illin, parental discretion is advised still

dont call me nigga, this MC goes for his

Call me God, cause that's what the black man is

Roamin through the forest as the hardest lyrical artist

Black women you are not a bitch you're a Goddess

Let it be known, you can lean on KRS-One

Like a wall cause I'm hard, I represent GOD

Wack MC's have only one style: gun buck

But when you say, "Let's buck for revolution"

They shut the fuck up, kid, get with it

Down to start a riot in a minute

You'll hear so many Bowe-Bowe-Bowe, you think I'm Riddick

While other MC's are talkin bout up with hope down with dope

I'll have a devil in my infrared scope, WOY!

That's for calling my father a boy and, KLAK KLAK KLAK!

That's for putting scars on my mother's back, BO!

That's for calling my sister a hoe, and for you

BUCK BUCK BUCK, cause I don't give a motherfuck

Remember the whip, remember the chant, remember about rope and

you black people still thinkin about vot-ing

Every president we ever had lied

You know I'm kinda glad Nixon died!

[Chorus]

This is not the first time I came to the planet

But everytime I come, only a few could understand it

I came as Isis, my words they tried to ban it

I came as Moses, they couldn't follow my commandments

I came as Solomon, to a people that was lost

I came as Jesus, but they nailed me to a cross

I came as Harriet Tubman, I put the truth to Sojourner

Other times, I had to come as Nat Turner

They tried to burn me, lynch me and starve me

So I had to come back as Marcus Garvey, Bob Marley

They tried to harm me, I used to be Malcolm X

Now I'm on the planet as the one called KRS

Kickin the metaphysical, spiritual, tryin to like

get wit you, showin you, you are invincible

The Black Panther is the black answer for real

In my spiritual form, I turn into Bobby Seale

On the wheels of steel, my spirit flies away

and enters into Kwame Ture

[Chorus]

In the streets there is no EQ, no di-do-di-do-di-do

So I grab the air and speak through the code

the devil cannot see through as I unload

into another cerebellum

Then I can tell em, because my vibes go through denim

and leather whatever, however, I'm still rockin

We used to pick cotton, now we pick up cotton when we shoppin

Have you forgotten why we buildin in a cypher

Yo hear me kid, government is building in a pyramid

The son of God is brighter than the son of man

The spirit is, check your dollar bill G, here it is

We got no time for fancy mathematics

Your mental frequency frequently pickin up static

Makin you a naked body, attic and it's democratic

They press auto, and you kill it with an automatic

[Chorus]

R.E.A.L.I.T.Y. lyrics - KRS-One

Reality, ain't always the truth

Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth

"These are the streets!

Shit is real out here!

This ain't no fuckin joke!"

I lived in a spot called Millbrooke Projects

The original Criminal Minded rap topic

With twenty cents in my pocket I saw the light

If you're young gifted and black, you got no rights

Your only true right, is a right to a fight

and not a fair fight, I wake up wonderin who died last night

Everyone and everything is at war

Makin my poetic expression hardcore

I ain't afraid to say it, and many can't get with it

At times in my life, I was a welfare recipient

I ate the free cheese, while the church said believe

and went to school everyday, like a god damn fool

Well anyway, here I am, chillin at the party

Brothers lookin at me like they wanna kill somebody

A cypher manifested in the center of the jam

I got to show these wack rappers really who I am

It's me against them, so I clear the phlegm

and wage the war, hardcore to the end

For someone lookin inside, yeah from the out

it seems like disrespect is what rap is all about

But hip-hop as a culture, is really what we give it

But sometimes the culture contradicts how we live it

Cause every black kid lives two and three lives

The city's a jungle, only the strong will survive

Reality, ain't always the truth

Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth

Reality, ain't always the truth

Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth

Every single day I hear lie after lie

Like "Black people don't die, we multiply"

So when I kick a rhyme I represent how I feel

The sacred street art of keepin it real

Why I gotta listen, to somebody else?

How they got wealth, let me talk about myself

But all I really got is hip-hop and a glock

The results are obvious, if I'm confined to my block

Occasionally, in the city I'm released

to meet other beasts, lookin for the feast

We grunt and growl, on the prowl, as the air gets thinner

"Yo yo there he go, him," there's the dinner

White meat, carryin a bag of some sort

Life is short, white meat is quickly caught

A scuffle a muffle yet none of us hesitated

Like Mother Africa, white meat is violated

We quickly dissapear, like Santa's little elves

And go into a area to fight amongst ourselves

We say, "peace/piece" cause that's what we really want

A piece of the pie that America flaunts

Reality, ain't always the truth

Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth

Reality, ain't always the truth

Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth

"Oh shit!"

The truth is that police must serve and protect

REALITY is black youth is shown no respect

The truth is government has a war against drugs

REALITY is government is ruled by thugs

With all this technology, above and under

Humanity still hunts down one another

Rappers display artistic cannibalism

through lyricism, we fight each other over rhythm

Through basic animal instincts, we think

So the battle for mental territory is glory, end of story

Reality, ain't always the truth

Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth

Reality, ain't always the truth

Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth

Yeah

"These are the streets!

Shit is real out here!

This ain't no fuckin joke!"

Free Mumia lyrics - KRS-One (feat. Channel Live)

Knowledge, where the people at?

Free Mumia!

Channel Live! (KRS-One, come and represent)

(The wisdom)

Hah hah hah hah hah hahaha!

Free Mumia!

Everywhere I look there's another house negro

Talkin about they people and how they should be equal

They talkin but the conversation ain't goin nowhere

You can't diss hip-hop, so don't you even go there

C. Delores Tucker, you wanna quote the scripture

Everytime you hear nigga, listen up sista

[Verse 1: Hakim, KRS, Tuffy]

I met up with this girl named Delores, a prankster

I said I MC, she said, "You're a gangster"

But she was caught up, she hit the floor like a breakdance

Wrapped her up like the arms in a b-boy stance

You have money cause I hear u get stars

She said "where you from?" I said "I was born up in the south Bronx!"

But now I reside all across america

She said "You the one who be causing all that mass hysteria.

Wisdom shall come out of the mouths of babes and sucklings

But you blinded by cultural ignorance and steady judging

But judge not, lest ye may be judged

For the judgment ye judge ye shall surely be judged, you gets no love

She said, "I like it, that's why I jock it"

Then I said, You only on my dick because I fill brotha's pockets

Cut the bullshit take me to you pad. she said, I'm gonna give you the ass cause I like the way your pants sag

Spread the legs with the otha hand she threw her kitty then I sprayed jizm like graffiti on her titty

Freestyled all night no doudt the bitch could'ntget enough cause she was strung the fuck out.

[Chorus: KRS-One]

Warner, Elektra, Atlantic equals WEA

Instead of fighting them why don't you go free Mumia

[x2]

[Verse 2: Tuffy, KRS, Hakim]

Wild recital, I kicks the vital, like the _Final

Call_ as I watch, Babylon fall

I had to Rush Limbaugh, get that pig with an axe

Tuffy dips to the side, buckin cannons that's phat

Because he censors the uses of the metaphor

You can get the dick bum up

Because it's you that brings the, real horrorcore

Expenditures forgettin, gut from the poor

Why sure! Back before we were born they sold us out

Yeah J. Jackson we know what you about

Back when you were running for the presidencey and competeting

All rap was dope and u love every beat and but you took the beating

You was using us then like you're using us now in the urban nation league

I don't know how you figure the stop the violence movement gave you $600, 000 NIGGA

And now u quicker to diss and get with miss Tucker you better find another you sell out

Mutha fucka's

Hate to be so rough, it could be the White Owls

House niggaz are full of shit, like my Colin Powell

Kickin vowels, is how we relieve the tension

Until we start to bounce white people like suspension (revolution)

You paint the pictures, the black man on the corner

But tell me, who blew up Oklahoma?

The City, ain't no pity, for the beast

It's Hakim that voice from the East

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: KRS, Hakim, Tuffy]

Buck buck! Buck buck buck!

It sound like gunshots but it could be the cluck

Of a chicken, definition, is what you're missin and

Listen to your children instead of dissin em

Senator Dole doesn't understand the young people

Like they be sayin want to, but we be sayin wanna

They gettin dumber every summer as they walk the rope

Maybe because they cannot understand the quotes

Word, in actuality, this Norman Bates mentality

Always seems to represent, minus three-sixty percent

For degrees full circle, dead from the purple

Rays of the sun I gots melanin so check it

Bag your nuts quick or get sick from being naked

Suspect it, was it a means for the end

For just a few to drive the Benz while you eat the pigskins

Turned you into mannequins, cause the trick of technology

A revelation, revalations

Sensation gives me inspiration of revolution

That's my solution, there will be no sequels

I'm audi hundred forty four thousand with my people

From Caligula to Hitler, now it's Schwartzeneggar

A lust for the violence is the science of their behavior

Who enslaved ya (it's the Devil) but the God of virtuosity

And of the world created, could it be mental sodomy

Got my mind twisted like the blades of fonta leaf

I sit in disbelief as he crawls underneath

The rock cock back the glock, cause I don't trust

The Devil I rebel until Babylon is dust

[Chorus]

Hold lyrics - KRS-One

Yeah....yeah.....

Mmmmm....Mm!

Alright, here we go...

I'm thinkin' real hard about some money I can hold

But everybody I know is deep in the hole

A steady payin' job is too hard for me to hold

I call around for work but they puttin' me on hold

But in my hand a shiny .45 is what I hold

I make a mayonnaise sandwich out of some whole-

Wheat, I'm feelin' weak, I can't hold

I gotta rob somebody tonight and take the whole

Bank roll, some cash I gotta hold

At the bottom of my shoe is a little bitty hole

That's it, my mental sanity I can't hold

I'm walkin' to the store with this pistol that I hold...

Yeah....yeah.....

Half of me is sayin' maintain and uphold

Suddenly I bump into some asshole

He's cursin' me out, but this pistol that I hold

Took control, and in his head I put a hole

Ahhh man, now I'm lookin' around the whole

Area, the gun is still hot that I hold

I'm buggin' out, and I don't know how much longer I can hold

I feel myself sinkin' deeper in the hole

So in my victim's pants I rip a little hole

And felt for the wallet, and took the whole

Bill-fold, forty bucks is what I hold

Suddenly I hear, "Freeze! Police! Hold!"

Yeah....mmmmm.....

Come on!

Yeah....wooh!

Come on...

In the penitentiary I see a whole

Bunch of blacks and Hispanics that they hold

In my cell I cry like hell, my head I hold

One day somebody ax if my shoes they could hold

I told this guy, "Listen! My shoe's got a hole

But what's up with that shiny sharp knife that you hold?"

He lunged forth, the first thing that I thought of was to hold

The arm with the knife so that he couldn't put a hole

In me, but then I put him in a chokehold

Took the knife and in his neck I put a hole

Suddenly all the C.O's come to me and it's me they hold

Beat my ass and I spend two weeks in the hole

I'm ready to bug out, my sanity I can't hold

My needs and wants messed up my life on a whole.

Damn. Just wasn't satisfied with life.

Yeah....uh!

Yeah....

Check!

The moral to the story is...your addiction to your needs and your wants is what causes problems in your life.

Make sure you got whatcha need. Put at a safe distance all the things that you want.

It's wants that get you into trouble.

This is the balance of life...the balance to life on a whole.

Wannabemceez lyrics - KRS-One

"One two, testing one two

Alright party people in the place to be

The party has already started

An-an-an-and it's about to il-il-il-ill" [echoes]

Let me introduce you to another type of rapper MC

where glamour and glitter don't matter gently

I'm tired of the Chattanooga empty

Classical like a German luger

Deep like a tune for scuba diving who am I the hyper

Like I said before my radar's going BIBBIT BIBBIT

The microphone I grip-it grip-it, lyric lyric I live it

Hear it my spirit is where it should be

Don't push me if you pussy, HUH

I spot em, it seems you want to ride the dillz

I got em, KRS got skills in the place

I waste megahertz of bass bottom, chill

As I rock em and get ill, I build the perfect spot to kill

Verbal excitement will lead to your indictment

Whether or not you like it, still, number one I hype it

Your album, rewrite it

How many MC's, wannabemceez

Never be MC's, cause they can't MC

How many MC's, wannabemceez

Never be MC's, cause they can't MC

Triplet syllables for minimal criminals

Lyrical riddles that got hard flavors in the middle

Sit back and chittle as I stand and still rebuild on skills

The admission of serial lyrics, calculated to weaken the spirit

will be diverted by this lyric when you hear it

Ricochet any style any day

Any which way and you'll Cherish the Day like Sade

The advanced oratorical techniques I speak

Keep the heat at full peak! My grammar

with stamina, grabs a rapper like the fresh catch of the day

and crack the back of that DJ

I'm strappin and attackin a pack

And whatever happens after that just happens, FACT

Flamboyant and flashy is one point in time when you're not ashy

Focus on the syllable formats and the cash G

G for guard your grill, I'm hard to kill

Odd but ill, a job to fill is to refill on skills

We built and killed style and skill

while poetically recriminate you like a child I will

get ill, and switch to earn

Cause I prefer to slur but not blur

Blurring you're stirring up trouble surely you don't need it

be seated I'm undefeated dem not see it

Observe me then beat it

How many MC's, wannabemceez

Never be MC's, cause they can't MC

How many MC's, wannabemceez

Never be MC's, cause they can't MC

Let's get back to the point quickly, get with me

The voice from New York City is too witty

I come from a era of ?OJ cars?, Latin Quarter

fake Gucci and fake Fendi, you can't send me

Nowhere, that I ain't been to

You can't tell me nuttin that I ain't been through

Disrespect the teacher I gots to get you

(cause they can't MC)

But what you really sayin

You sound like a bitch-ass rapper when he's saying

"Yo Kris you hit too hard" stop playing!

Switching and swaying

Day in and day out, your styles are played out, see you way out

Before you're laid out, your bright lights start to fade out

The last thing you heard is "Who let the K out?"

No great area[?]

Everything is black and white we took the gray out it's scarier

Either you're winnin or losin, spinnin the rules of conscience

But lyrically there ain't no stoppin

I'm droppin a lot in your noggin

Cause I know that you're lyrically starvin

Carbon, your name, battle battle

Everybody wants to battle but you BAB-BLE

Who knows ya, battlin me, is the only way that you can gain exposure

I feel for ya soldier

I hate to say it but I told ya so

You know that I know the ancient flow KRS-One

is the holder of a boulder yo, money folder yo

You want a fresh style let me show you slow

your blow, I'm not your foe

Battling me? No no no no no no NO!

How many MC's, wannabemceez

Never be MC's, cause they can't MC

How many MC's, wannabemceez

Never be MC's, cause they can't MC

[Mad Lion]

If a DJ think he man den he better prepare for war!!

BDP crew get up in that ass like a piece of toilet tissue

General Lion I chase them all and I am on fiyah

Represent the hardest crew, you know how we do

Anything tess, dead! Gun shot to dem head

Gwan [echoes]

Represent The Real Hip Hop lyrics - KRS-One (feat. Das EFX)

Only a few... will understand

and appreciate what's about to happen

Das EFX, come in!!!

[Verse 1: Das EFX]

[Drayz]

Well it's the super duper rhymer rhymer I'm about to set it

Niggaz best forget it let it be or you'll regret it D

So what it B... the D to the fuckin P

(Yo it's me the lyricist they fear in this as you can see)

I be's the ultimate, drop the ultra shit, fuck the other shit

Biggety buttah shit is how we comin kid we runnin shit

Now who you fuckin with is Diggey Das EFX'n

We flexin, cause kid we got this rhyme and took effect y'all

[Books]

Aiyyo I figgety flow I rocket blow a nigga out the socket

Keep in mind to keep the dread, now they like my pocket, watch it

It's the rhyme fiend about a second from the crime scene

The boogie banger twisted off the lime green

Fuck a dime we, strictly fifty, the BDP and Hit Squad committee

King of my city, ask my cousin Smitty, yo

Got to get the dough, got to blow the spot

Diggity Das KRS East coast on lock

[Verse 2: Das-EFX, KRS]

[Drayz]

To corny niggaz y'all get ate, my shit'll make you faint

So much platinum on my walls that I can hardly see the fuckin paint

You think it ain't before a year and stopped recordin

Now look we comin back and runnin shit like fuckin Michael Jordan

Accordin, to my niggaz in the sewer

Yo you a, corny nigga so we gots ta do ya

[Books]

This for my niggaz on the block, handlin rock like Kenny Anderson

I'm brandishin, stiggedy styles to keep MC's vanishing

Scattering, fuck it, styles don't be mattering

My pattern's amazing son Blazing like a Saddle and

Battling's a no-no, got more Fame than Coco

I'm paid and still drips ya with a blade from my logo

So take your, style and Go-Go like D.C. niggaz

Y'all know the haps we movin strapped on the East nigga

[Drayz]

Yo, yo, well miggedy mayday, mayday, it's Crazy Drayz's payday

I riggedy wreck it eryday, kick shit like fuckin Pele

But wait a, minute, cause we get in it for the masses

For classes, yo KRS come get up in they asses

[KRS]

What... I say, follow me follow me

with my syllable syllable lyrical criminal

MC threats are minimal to my phsyical they just

whittle and whittle away, with little and little to say

As they piddle and paddle away, they say OK

But I chop that ass up anyway

What's your handle I got mad MC heads upon a mantle

I got genuine MC skin sandals

I light the mic up like a candle, watch it melt

Cause when I felt lyrics you both are screamin for help

when you hear it, you can't bear it, you can't even wear it

You oughts to just cheer it, go get it spirit!!

As I fa-la-la-la-la, I'm comin with that rara

Rockin mics when you was googoo gaga to your momma

You wanted to battle KRS when you was young you told your poppa

He slapped you in your head and said UHH-UHH

But you didn't heed the warning

Now I'm in the place, now I'm your face

Lookin at your crew but they all broke out

because they nothin but lace

KRS is like mace, in your motherfuckin face

Yo DJ Dice, tear down the place!!

The Truth lyrics - KRS-One

It's not natural

If it goes against God

It's not factual

Her truth is not hard

It's not natural

If it goes against God

It's not factual

Gimme the truth!

Listen to the lyric as the negative is shrinkin

It's shrinkin out your life when you decide to change your thinkin

One of the first things we gotta switch around of course

Is Jesus Christ, and him dying on the cross

You're looking at the cross, surrounded in it's mystery

With Jesus on the cross in a, total misery

Now seperate Jesus from the cross so you can see

The truth about the cross, and the cross's history

The cross was created by the Roman government

It's only purpose and use, is cap-i-tal punishment

But Jesus Christ, was all about the revolution

While the cross was used as Jesus Christ's execution

See what if Jesus Christ, was hung upon a tree

Upon every church wall, that's exactly what you'd see

If Jesus Christ, was shot in the head with no respect

We'd all have little gold guns around our neck

If Jesus Christ was killed in electic chair, now get it

You'd be knealing to the electric chair with Jesus, still in it

You gaze upon the cross, and you see the execution

You yell stop the violence but the cross you're still using

It's not natural

If it goes against God

It's not factual

Her truth is not hard

It's not natural

If it goes against God

It's not factual

Gimme the truth!

So I say listen, listen, open up your third eye vision

God is not down with religion

Religion they be sellin it, listen up, God is intelligent

Reading of the bible is irrelevant

You gotta look within yourself, not a scripture

KRS-One comes to rearrange the God picture

If you sit and believe, you can acheive

If you sit and accept, you don't know, what's correct

or incorrect, take for instance Adam and Eve

The first two people on the planet, or so you believe

Their first time in heaven kids they had, Cain and Abel

Huh, now let me show you why the story's unstable

According to the story, according to what you believe

There was only Cain, Abel, Adam, and Eve

on the whole planet, now use your intellect

and tell me, what did Cain and Abel do for sex?

Upon the whole planet there was not another

Could it be for sex, heh, they were looking at each other?

Hold up! I thought the church wasn't into that

But wait, still yet, there is another fact

How did the world get populated?

Now tell me if I'm wrong, but obviously Eve had it goin on

Think for a minute, I know it gets notorious

But yo G, check out the chorus

It's not natural

If it goes against God

It's not factual

Her truth is not hard

It's not natural

If it goes against God

It's not factual

Gimme the truth!

[Rich Nice]

Yo yo...

Yo bring that back

I wanna say something on this BlastMaster session

Yo this is Rich Nice

You brothers gotta stop treating these hoes like nice girls

and these nice girls like hoes

[KRS-One]

True indeed, I'd like to welcome the rebirth of the Goddess

Word up it's all about knowledge of self

Yo Busta Rhymes, why don't you take the session over from here

Build Ya Skillz lyrics - KRS-One

[Verse 1: KRS-One]

Check, I control your mind with one rhyme I speak

And get you open like a prostitutes buttcheeks

Rapper get kicked in they mouth with cleets

cause they're speech refuses to reach beyond the beach

Have a seat quick I speak or spit flicks on your [?]

Time to complete shit, no weak shit, I mean freak shit properly

I can feel myself becoming a lyric monopoly

Others will copy me but repeat my shit sloppily

Shocking me with inclinations of rocking me

Insanity it got to be

My true identity is never meant to see

I simply use the gifts sent to me mentally

[Busta Rhymes]

Yo! Word up! Get from out my face, before you get bust quickly!

[Verse 2: KRS-One]

Thats the hip hop, the hibby

I rip it in a minute cause I'm gifted

Like December 25th

Now let me flip

I'm all knowing lyrically syllable growing

Even when it's snowing I'm party going

Free flowing and stomping!

Never tip-toeing

Overthrowing the comp

Big up Bronx!

I got more styles than the planet got women

I got as many rhymes as is many styles of women

Don't make me come out on that ass start flippin'

Your mental I'm afflictin'

Actin' ill and sickin'

Pickin' the victim at random, slammin' ‘em

Draggin' them to the stage and dismantlin' them

As my Hydrogen turns to Helium I shine!

None of your lyrics I'm feelin' ‘em

You rhyme

Like you should be wearin' an apron scrapin' a pot with a name like Mariam

[Chorus:]

But rappers talk too much shit

And can't back it up with lyrics

Build ya skills

It's time for the raw shit

Not that on tour shit

That real hardcore shit

KRS-One runs shit like diarrhea

Bitin' motherfuckers hear my shit and get up outta here!

I don't care this year

Alot of albums is wak this year

"Will KRS bring it?" Ahh yeah!

Thanks for the invite

It's just about to get hype

That straight up raw street type shit is what it feel like

I will be displayin' lyrical styles I'm saying

Lyrical styles from the miracle child

Want a pile of ill styles wildin' on your radio dial?

Smile

I been here for awhile

Peep my style while I go on with the song

I rock the microphone then it to the streets with the Krylon

clicka clacka! clicka clacka!

Take a spraycan and slap a wak rapper!

Stacks of money for videos I don't have it

You're lookin' at the last MC with true talent

Get your tape recorder fast kid

Boombastic another classic

Turn up the cassette!

All my styles are lyrically fantastic and movin'

While soothin' any urges for booing

Ungluing your mouth from my private

The more the merrier

Syllable superior

East Coast - West Coast battles are inferior

Cause I by myself will take out the whole North America

We need to expand rap beyond this land

Set up competitions with England and Japan

World cups for rappers that really fuck shit for fun

....Yeah I know I'll get one

[Chorus]

Out For Fame lyrics - KRS-One

[train whistle]

Yo right here, right here

It's right through the fence, right through the fence

Jump! [feet landing]

Yeah.. right there, right there

That's the 2's and the 5's

[bag rustling]

Joe gimme that, the fat, the fat cap, fat cap

Yeah..

[train rolls in]

Aight

[shaking can up]

Aight, let's do it now, let's do it now

[spray paint]

Yeah.. yeah..

Nah gi-gimme the other cap, gimme the other one

Yeah right there

[more spray]

Front.. Page.. Entertainment.. Group

Yeah..

"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall" [x8]

[first time, minus "I'm"]

Hah! Hahahaha

All graffiti artists hold tight, hooo!

All graffiti artists hold tight, word

Check check check it out y'all

Check check check check check it out y'all

[KRS-One]

I got twenty-five cans in my knapsack, crossin out the wick-wack

Puttin up my name with a fat cap

Suckers that want to be in my face I just slap that

Big respect to Artifacts, Fat Joey Crack and

Mack and, Bio, and Brim come again

with B.G. 183, recognize me

with the mad colors, I'm a fiend for spraypaint

Laugh if you wanna, I really care if you ain't

cause you don't me see, and I don't know you

But I do know Cope2, he be gettin walls too

It's the underground community of what we call writers

Worldwide burners, gettin hotter gettin brighter

Whattup Nicer, whattup Razor, whattup Chino

Masta Ase in the place, you know we know

my man Rican, my man Zorro, taught me how to draw

in the yards of the 5 train and the 4

So when I'm on tour I represent the hardcore

I'm taggin up your blackbook sure, I'm out for the fame

"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall" [x4]

[first time, minus "I'm"]

Yeah, check it out check it out check it out one time

Hip-hop music in effect one time

[KRS-One]

When I was growin up, I had no butcher baker candlestick maker

I had rubbing alcohol and carbon paper

Yeah, carbon paper and a blackboard eraser

got me chased in the bus yards, with Rican and Nazer

Historically speakin, cause people be dissin

The first graffiti artists in the world were the Egyptians

Writing on the walls, mixing characters with letters

to tell the graphic story about their life, however

today we do the same thing, with how we rap and draw

We call it hardcore, they call it breakin the law

There used to be a time when rap music was illegal

The cops would come and break up every party when they see you

But now the rap music's making money for the corporate

It's acceptable to flaunt it, now everybody's on it

Graffiti isn't corporate so it gets no respect

Hasn't made a billion dollars for some corporation yet, so

in the name of Phase2, Stay High, Pre-streets

Grab your cans and hit the streets, I'm out for fame

"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall" [x6]

Yeah, hip-hop culture in the house one time

All graffiti artists in the house one time

Yeah..

Biggin up the other side things here y'all

The visual, not your video (check it out)

[KRS-One]

I'm livin in the city, inner city not a farm

Steady bombin til I get fatigue in my arm

Watchin for the beast cause many artists they shot em

And beat em in the yards, while doin a top to bottom

So pass me a can, not of Old Gold

but full blue, sky blue, watch me unfold

with the cold burner, of names you mighta heard of

like Fab 5 Freddy, Sam Sever

Word to the wise, Futura 2000 recognize

Nation of creation, G Man come alive

Checkin out Revolt and Zephyr

My man Easy, and Rembrandt, Mitch 77

Oh no with the paint we can never dilly-dally

Big up and respect to Con Art in Cali

The Soul Artists, The Rebels, The Rascals, 3YB

United Artists, TAT and Dondi

Yes the other side of hip-hop is representin the visual

Toys we be DISSIN you, I'm out for fame

"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall" [x10]

Hip-hop in the house one time

Video graf in the house one time

All graffiti artists in the house dig the rhyme

Put up your nine, put up your nine, yeah!

Fresh.. for nineteen-ninety-five

You SUCKERS!!!!