| (Ok I see how you doin' it, that was dope |
| I got this gutter shit lined up, I know you ain’t tired) |
| (What? Ha ha ha. Really?) |
| I ain’t even tryin' or peekin' |
| I just ripped a club down last weekend |
| I’m no trick but I’m treating rappers like Halloween |
| They all costume no substance and that’s what hollow means |
| They really empty like a lot of fiends |
| They holding a hundred but they don’t really know what a one dollar means |
| They slaves to slave economies |
| Sellouts and traitors posing as hip-hop, we got a lot of these |
| So I be spittin' my philosophies with evidence |
| No doubt this is the route so why the hesitance? |
| Is it because I’m spittin' with divine intelligence and excellence and you |
| hearing rhymes that are irrelevant? |
| Knowledge Reigns Supreme, KRS is how I’m spellin' it |
| The top one of the top five and that’s the end of it |
| I judge my pen when I sentence it |
| Then imprison your mind with my penmanship, but here’s some better shit |
| Get with me, you forgot? Let me jog your memory |
| I’m a poor righteous teacher and a public enemy |
| Fake ass DJs, they do not play or even mention me |
| I’m scary, revolutionary. Fake? I will never be |
| Real I’ll forever be |
| I’m a whole different entity |
| I spit rhymes by the mouth and by telepathy |
| Health love awareness and wealth, that’s the recipe |
| I’m 50 and 20 year olds can’t match the energy |
| On stage I’m in a rage, yeah it’s like 10 of me |
| Disrespect the teacher, you know the penalty |
| KRS-One, I’m from a whole different century |
| I’m paid in full so you can ch-ch-check out my melody |
| Murderin' mics, they chargin' me with a felony |
| But I can’t be caught because the ancestors dwell in me |
| Movin' with hesitancy when you mentionin' me |
| I’m an original MC, get your T-I-C-K-E-T |
| The mic grabber, beat stabber, street grammar, heat blaster |
| I stay chunky and hungry so I eat faster |
| Gobble gobble gobble most rappers are hollow |
| So KRS-One becomes that hard act to follow |
| Hard beats, hard rhymes, hard cuttin' |
| «Wha-dot-dot-dot-dang!» gets the whole place jumpin' |
| This is that original Boogie Down Productions |
| Last of them true MCs that still function |
| Boom bap, boom bap |
| When the mic turns on, dudes be like, «Who's that?» |
| Crowd rushin' in, security’s like, «Move back!» |
| Real skill, that’s what a lot of you lack |
| I’m turnin' on my mic to reveal a new batch |
| Rappers say they great, but compared to Kris, who match? |
| Amber alert on the phone when you snatched |
| How you a DJ? You ain’t even start from scratch |
| (Yeah I know you waitin', I’m just messin' with the reverb a little bit, |
| just keep goin' and I’ll tell you when to stop) |
| You still here? It ain’t over yet |
| Knowledge reigns, so I’ma leave 'em soaking wet |
| If you listenin' to a legend, this is what you supposed to get |
| Real skill, my utmost respect, or a broken neck |
| Flawless rawness I pour this through the cordless, all this is lawless |
| I’m the tallest, people say, «Give me more Kris!» |
| You can’t ignore this you know you saw this, the extensive tallest is flawless |
| We on this because dope is what they call this |
| So from the gutter the number one, he comes from under from the hood when the |
| hood was a hood and it peaked in summer |
| We used to speak our rhymes to Funky Drummer |
| We called it The Dozens, a competition of words, jokes about your mother |
| Now knowledge reigning supreme like no other |
| The soul brother whose beats and words so gutter |
| No wonder this brother when he utters you don’t blow |
| Not with the gun though, with the one flow, you like, «Fuck no!» |
| This no luck though, I’m one bro |
| You can now catch me teaching in Brick City at 55 Ludlow |
| Dudes be like, «Uh oh, we in trouble» |
| King of the jungle, no time to mumble, kingdom’s gonna crumble |
| I step they stumble I bee like bumble a one-two to run to a traitor like fuck |
| you and bring the truck through |
| I gets down but you can’t see what I’m up to |
| I’m tacklin' rappers like, «Hut one! Hut two!» |
| When I come through |
| (Ok ok we good, let’s change up the flow) |