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The Real HipHop - KRS-One
Only a few... will understand
And appreciate what's about to happen
Das EFX, come in!!!
Verse One: Das EFX
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 f**kin P
(Yo it's me the lyricist they fear in this as you can see)
I be's the ultimate, drop the ultra sh*t, f**k the other sh*t
Biggety buttah sh*t is how we comin kid we runnin sh*t
Now who you f**kin with is Diggey Das EFX'n
We flexin, cause kid we got this rhyme and took effect y'all
Aiyyo I figgety flow I rocket blow a ni**a 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
F**k 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 Two: Das-EFX, KRS
To corny niggaz y'all get ate, my sh*t'll make you faint
So much platinum on my walls that I can hardly see the f**kin paint
You think it ain't before a year and stopped recordin
Now look we comin back and runnin sh*t like f**kin Michael Jordan
Accordin, to my niggaz in the sewer
Yo you a, corny ni**a so we gots ta do ya
This for my niggaz on the block, handlin rock like Kenny Anderson
I'm brandishin, stiggedy styles to keep MC's vanishing
Scattering, f**k 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 ni**a
Yo, yo, well miggedy mayday, mayday, it's Crazy Drayz's payday
I riggedy wreck it eryday, kick sh*t like f**kin Pele
But wait a, minute, cause we get in it for the masses
For classes, yo KRS come get up in they asses
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 a** 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 motherf**kin face
Yo DJ Dice, tear down the place!!