[Chorus]
|
Ya feel dat? (HO!) Ya see dat? (HO!)
|
Ya hear dat? (HO!) You believe dat? (HO!)
|
Ya follow dat? (HO!) Could it be dat? (HO!)
|
Ya follow dat? (HO!) Can you believe dat? (HO!)
|
Ya hear dat? (HO!) Ya see dat? (HO!)
|
You believe dat? (HO!) You can feel dat (HO!)
|
Ya follow dat? (HO!) You believe dat? (HO!)
|
Ya see dat? (HO!)
|
|
[Verse One]
|
Show me an MC that think he's too hot
|
Bring him to KRS-One, I'll show him he's NOT
|
Blowin the whole spot up when I spit up
|
Knowledge Reigns Supreme, when I walk past, get up
|
My wrists ain't lit up! I don't even live that life
|
Gold, diamonds, platinum, I give to my wife - you see
|
Diamonds are a girl's best friend, not mine
|
You got it, FINE - but what about that rhyme?
|
Can you rhyme? Can you spit it quick
|
like watermelon pits at a picnic? Ha!
|
Or are you just dressed up with nowhere to go?
|
Or is the record company the pimp and you the ho?
|
LET'S GO!
|
|
[Chorus] w/ variations
|
|
[Verse Two]
|
I write my own books like I write my own hooks
|
Step in the spot and these rappers be so shook
|
They don't look here cause KRS is BOOM!
|
Platinum rappers be hidin out in they dressin rooms
|
Yo, get away from me
|
You got a million dollar video but I'M the one they wanna see
|
The capital E-M-C-E-E
|
A repitition of words, I been divorced Melodie
|
I'm out, confident, no doubt
|
I get what I gotta get when I spit I don't shout
|
This New Yorker, Kris Parker's a quick talker
|
You can get what I spit or get the klik-klocker
|
Overseas I got the breeze as a hip-hopper
|
Where they speak eat and drop the beats proper
|
Street doctor, I'm +Brown+ and +Foxy+ like the +Ill Nana+
|
Whoever you think is hot, I'm hotter
|
|
[Chorus] w/ variations
|
|
[Verse Three]
|
RADIO! These suckers never play me
|
or Chuck - but do you think we really give a...
|
Southside, Westside, Eastside, North
|
I spit the hot flame, you get your flesh torn off
|
I come from that place where you cats can't face
|
Where cops can't chase or invade my space
|
We turn up the bass, you tremble in the place
|
Phones ain't traced and flows we don't waste
|
Hoes we don't chase or kiss, they know they place
|
with Kris or Christ, they'll lose their life
|
You don't lose if you come in two's, you and a wife
|
But you crews wanna be bruised, so choose your knife
|
Choose your gat, choose your rat, when the smoke clears
|
you'll be like, "God damn - who was that?"
|
Loosen that noose around your neck and back
|
Embarassin blacks, ain't no respect in that!
|
|
[Chorus] w/ variations
|
|
[KRS-One]
|
Let's do it! (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) (HO!)
|
Everybody up top! (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) (HO!)
|
Yo, all my cats in the front! (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) (HO!)
|
Yo, yo, all my cats in the back (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) (HO!)
|
Yo, we out!
|
|
-----------------
|
Ya Feel Dat
|
KRS-One |