Låttexter: KRS One. KRS-One. Wannabemceez.
One two, testing one two
Alright party people in the place to be
The party has already started
And it's about to ill
Let me introduce you to another type of rapper MC
where glamor 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
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 babble
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
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
Alright party people in the place to be
The party has already started
And it's about to ill
Let me introduce you to another type of rapper MC
where glamor 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
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 babble
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
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
KRS One
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