|
Only a few... will understand
|
and appreciate what's about to happen
|
Das EFX, come in!!!
|
|
Verse One: 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 Two: 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!!
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Represent the Real Hip Hop
|
KRS-One |