krs-one

krs-one

KRS-One - MC's Act Like They Don't Know (Prod. by DJ Premier)

4mo ago
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Album: KRS-One Released: 1995 Lyrics: [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, as I 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 Artifacts On the Wrong Side of Da Tracks, electrified Comin' around the mountain, you run and hide Hopin' your defence mechanism can divert my heat-seeking lyricism As I spark mad izm The 1996 lyrical style's what I give 'em