MC's Act Like They Don't Know

KRS One

Composed by: DJ Premier/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
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