Intro
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Clap your hands everybody, if you got what it takes
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Cos I'm KRS and I'm on the mic, and Premier's on The Breaks
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Verse 1
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If you don't know me by now I doubt you'll ever know me
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I never won a Grammy, I won't win a Tony
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But I'm not the only MC keepin' it real
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When I grab the mic to smash a rapper, girls go "Illlll!"
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Check the time as I rhyme, it's 1995
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Whenever I arrive the party gets liver
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Flow with the master rhymer, that's to leave behind
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The video rapper, you know, the chart climber
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Clapper, down goes another rapper
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Onto another matter, punch up the data, Blastmaster
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Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everybody
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Call up KRS, I'm guaranteed to rip a party
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Flat top, braids, bald heads or natty dread
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There once was a story about a man named Jed
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But now Jed is dead, all his kids instead
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Want to kick rhymes off the top of they head
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Word, what go around come around I figure
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Now we got white kids callin' themselves niggas
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The tables turned as the crosses burned
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Remember You Must Learn
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About the styles I flip and how wild I get
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I go on like a space age rocket ship
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You could be a mack, a pimp, hustler or player
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But make sure live you is a dope rhyme sayer
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Verse 2
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This is what you waited all year for
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The hardcore, that's what KRS is here for
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Big up Grand Wizard Theodore, gettin' ill
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If you see then ya saw I'm in your grill with mad skill
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MC's can only battle with rhymes that got punchlines
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Let's battle to see who headlines
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Instead of flow for flow let's go show for show
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Toe for toe, yo, you better act like you know
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Too many MC's take that word 'emcee' lightly
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They can't Move a Crowd, not even slightly
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It might be the fact that they express wackness
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Let me show ya whose ass is the blackest
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I flip a script a little bit, you ride the tip and shit
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Too sick to get with it, admit you bit, your style is counterfeit
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Now tone it down a bit
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My title you will never get, I'm too intelligent
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I'll send your family my sentiments, my style is toxic
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When I rock and shock and hip hop it unlock your head, I knock it
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It split quick from the lyric
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Direct hit, perfect fit, you can't get with it
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Verse 3
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Some MC's don't like the KRS but they must respect him
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Cos they know this kid gets all up in they rectum
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Slappin' and selectin' em, checkin' em, disrespectin' em
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Just deckin' em, deckin' em, deck-in' em
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Who in their right mind can mimic a style like mine?
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I design rhyme and get mine all the time
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MC's standin' on the sidelines, always dissin'
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When I roll up and rush their crew they start bitchin'
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I don't burn, I don't freeze, yet some MC's
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Believe they could tangle with the likes of these
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Cross your t's and dot your i's whenever I arrive
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Wide, magnified, live like the ocean tide
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You dope, you lied, I reside like artefacts
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On the wrong side of the tracks, electrified
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Comin' around the mountain, you run and hide
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Hopin' your defence mechanism can divert my heat-seeking lyricism
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As I spark mad iszm
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The 1996 lyrical style's what I give 'em
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MC's Act Like They Don't Know
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KRS-One |