KRS-One - Krs-One (1995) by KRS-One (보컬) on maniadb.com

Some fear de 'matic
Ah hah hah, heh heh heh, EHHH
Check it out

Some fear de 'matic, yes de automatic
Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de automatic
Tonight a rapper gwan die

Crazy MC's waste they time chasin' millions
While KRS-One, holds the minds of the children
I'm buildin' a followin' of a hundred and forty-four thousand
Chosen few heads up in project housin'
A true rapper, street rapper, rappin' to the center
I enter any cipher, with tales of adventure
If rappers are ridin' beats like cars, I'm bendin' mad fenders
Put down your mic and surrender
Youse a pretender, Blastmaster KRS rules the pavement
Kickin' Edutainment while you wait for your arraignment
Save it friend before your chest I cave it in
I got my way again, I'm classical like a fuckin' Harley Davidson
How do you think I kick a lyrical style no and you figure
It's simple, I'm a rap God, and youse a nigga
Don't mean I'm bigger, it simply means I'm smarter
For starters, I come at you poetically harder

De automatic, get de automatic
Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de automatic
Tonight a rapper gwan die

Ha hah, fake ass rapper, how you think you got juice?
When you rock a pair of panties underneath your bubblegoose
(Word) KRS-One will fuck up parties dramatically
My reflex'll slap a wack rapper automatically
When you was home witcha mother, afraid of the dark
I was sleepin' out in Prospect Park
Eatin' one meal every 48 hours
Writin' dope rhyme styles that you now devour
Don't you realize, that I'm all about survival
I got only friends cause I KILLED all my rivals
Show up at the rhyme recitals, took they titles
From eighty-six to ninety-six completes my first cycle

De automatic, get de automatic
Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de automatic
Tonight a rapper gwan die

I spent 40 days, and 40 nights in the wilderness
I'm hard, from head to toe yo there ain't no killin' this
I wrote over 100 rap hooks
and sociological books, while you worried about your looks
Now you want to enter the dragon in sound
But I've got the live club show locked down
Platinum and gold don't hold in my arena
You gots to keep it real on the mic, when they see ya
I manifest, in the West the East and overseas
The vision in rap is wack, and I don't know of these
I represent New York to be specific
The South Bronx, but in Japan I'm still gifted
I grab a jet and land on your set, what the fuck?
Twenty bucks for a rap show is still, twenty bucks
I start from eighty-six, and bring you into ninety-six
No gimmicks, tricks or lip-sync lyrics

De automatic, get de automatic
Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de automatic
Tonight a rapper gwan die

Yeah yeah it's the God Fat Joe
Representin' the motherfuckin' South Bronx
With my nigga Kris, knockin' off frauds
Motherfuckers want to do what?
Big shout out to my nigga Kenny Parker
Ill Will, BDP crew for life nigga
Naughty Gotto, the Big French productions
Of course the TAT crew, my nigga Brim
The T.S. crew, and the whole Godsville
South Bronx represent nigga, uhh

The South Bronx, the South South Bronx
South Bronx, the South South Bronx
Yeah! Uhh!

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

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 climbe
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

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 you
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

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

Intro: KRS-One

Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you see a devil down
Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you take the devil's crown
Ah yeah, stay alive all things will change around
Ah yeah, what? Ah yeah!

Verse One: KRS-One

So here I go kickin science in ninety-five
I be illin, parental discretion is advised still
don't call me nigga, this MC goes for his
Call me God, cause that's what the black man is
Roamin through the forest as the hardest lyrical artist
Black women you are not a bitch you're a Goddess
Let it be known, you can lean on KRS-One
Like a wall cause I'm hard, I represent GOD
Wack MC's have only one style: gun buck
But when you say, "Let's buck for revolution"
They shut the fuck up, kid, get with it
Down to start a riot in a minute
You'll hear so many Bowe-Bowe-Bowe, you think I'm Riddick
While other MC's are talkin bout up with hope down with dope
I'll have a devil in my infrared scope, WOY!
That's for calling my father a boy and, KLAK KLAK KLAK!
That's for putting scars on my mother's back, BO!
That's for calling my sister a hoe, and for you
BUCK BUCK BUCK, cause I don't give a motherfuck
Remember the whip, remember the chant, remember about rope and
you black people still thinkin about vot-ing
Every president we ever had lied
You know I'm kinda glad Nixon died!

Chorus

Verse Two: KRS

This is not the first time I came to the planet
But everytime I come, only a few could understand it
I came as Isis, my words they tried to ban it
I came as Moses, they couldn't follow my commandments
I came as Solomon, to a people that was lost
I came as Jesus, but they nailed me to a cross
I came as Harriet Tubman, I put the truth to Sojourner
Other times, I had to come as Nat Turner
They tried to burn me, lynch me and starve me
So I had to come back as Marcus Garvey, Bob Marley
They tried to harm me, I used to be Malcolm X
Now I'm on the planet as the one called KRS
Kickin the metaphysical, spiritual, tryin to like
get wit you, showin you, you are invincible
The Black Panther is the black answer for real
In my spiritual form, I turn into Bobby Seale
On the wheels of steel, my spirit flies away
and enters into Kwame Ture

Chorus

Verse Three: KRS-One

In the streets there is no EQ, no di-do-di-do-di-do
So I grab the air and speak through the code
the devil cannot see through as I unload
into another cerebellum
Then I can tell em, because my vibes go through denim
and leather whatever, however, I'm still rockin
We used to pick cotton, now we pick up cotton when we shoppin
Have you forgotten why we buildin in a cypher
Yo hear me kid, government is building in a pyramid
The son of God is brighter than the son of man
The spirit is, check your dollar bill G, here it is
We got no time for fancy mathematics
Your mental frequency frequently pickin up static
Makin you a naked body, attic and it's democratic
They press auto, and you kill it with an automatic

Chorus

Reality, ain't always the truth
Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth

"These are the streets!
Shit is real out here!
This ain't no fuckin joke!"

I lived in a spot called Millbrooke Projects
The original Criminal Minded rap topic
With twenty cents in my pocket I saw the light
If you're young gifted and black, you got no rights
Your only true right, is a right to a fight
and not a fair fight, I wake up wonderin who died last night
Everyone and everything is at war
Makin my poetic expression hardcore
I ain't afraid to say it, and many can't get with it
At times in my life, I was a welfare recipient
I ate the free cheese, while the church said believe
and went to school everyday, like a god damn fool
Well anyway, here I am, chillin at the party
Brothers lookin at me like they want to kill somebody
A cypher manifested in the center of the jam
I got to show these wack rappers really who I am
It's me against them, so I clear the phlegm
and wage the war, hardcore to the end
For someone lookin inside, yeah from the out
it seems like disrespect is what rap is all about
But hip-hop as a culture, is really what we give it
But sometimes the culture contradicts how we live it
Cause every black kid lives two and three lives
The city's a jungle, only the strong will survive

Reality, ain't always the truth
Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth
Reality, ain't always the truth
Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth

Every single day I hear lie after lie
Like "Black people don't die, we multiply"
So when I kick a rhyme I represent how I feel
The sacred street art of keepin it real
Why I gotta listen, to somebody else?
How they got wealth, let me talk about myself
But all I really got is hip-hop and a glock
The results are obvious, if I'm confined to my block
Occasionally, in the city I'm released
to meet other beasts, lookin for the feast
We grunt and growl, on the prowl, as the air gets thinner
"Yo yo there he go, him," there's the dinner
White meat, carryin a bag of some sort
Life is short, white meat is quickly caught
A scuffle a muffle yet none of us hesitated
Like Mother Africa, white meat is violated
We quickly disappear, like Santa's little elves
And go into a area to fight amongst ourselves
We say, "peace/piece" cause that's what we really want
A piece of the pie that America flaunts

Reality, ain't always the truth
Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth
Reality, ain't always the truth
Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth

"Oh shit!"

The truth is that police must serve and protect
REALITY is black youth is shown no respect
The truth is government has a war against drugs
REALITY is government is ruled by thugs
With all this technology, above and under
Humanity still hunts down one another
Rappers display artistic cannibalism
through lyricism, we fight each other over rhythm
Through basic animal instincts, we think
So the battle for mental territory is glory, end of story

Reality, ain't always the truth
Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth
Reality, ain't always the truth
Rhymes Equal Actual Life, In The Youth
Yeah

"These are the streets!
Shit is real out here!
This ain't no fuckin joke!"

Knowledge, where the people at?
Free Mumia!
Channel Live! (KRS-One, come and represent)
(The wisdom)
Hah hah hah hah hah hahaha!
Free Mumia!

Everywhere I look there's another house negro
Talkin about they people and how they should be equal
They talkin but the conversation ain't goin nowhere
You can't diss hip-hop, so don't you even go there
C. Delores Tucker, you want to quote the scripture
Everytime you hear nigga, listen up sista

Verse One: Hakim, KRS, Tuffy

I met up with this girl named Delores, a prankster
I said I MC, she said, "You're a gangster"
But she was caught up, she hit the floor like a breakdance
Wrapped her up like the arms in a be

Yeah yeah
Mmmmm Mm
Alright, here we go

I'm thinkin' real hard about some money I can hold
But everybody I know is deep in the hole
A steady payin' job is too hard for me to hold
I call around for work but they puttin' me on hold
But in my hand a shiny .45 is what I hold
I make a mayonnaise sandwich out of some whole-
Wheat, I'm feelin' weak, I can't hold
I gotta rob somebody tonight and take the whole
Bank roll, some cash I gotta hold
At the bottom of my shoe is a little bitty hole
That's it, my mental sanity I can't hold
I'm walkin' to the store with this pistol that I hold

Yeah yeah

Half of me is sayin' maintain and uphold
Suddenly I bump into some asshole
He's cursin' me out, but this pistol that I hold
Took control, and in his head I put a hole
Ahhh man, now I'm lookin' around the whole
Area, the gun is still hot that I hold
I'm buggin' out, and I don't know how much longer I can hold
I feel myself sinkin' deeper in the hole
So in my victim's pants I rip a little hole
And felt for the wallet, and took the whole
Bill-fold, forty bucks is what I hold
Suddenly I hear, Freeze! Police! Hold

Yeah mmmmm
Come on
Yeah wooh
Come on

In the penitentiary I see a whole
Bunch of blacks and Hispanics that they hold
In my cell I cry like hell, my head I hold
One day somebody ax if my shoes they could hold
I told this guy, Listen! My shoe's got a hole
But what's up with that shiny sharp knife that you hold?
He lunged forth, the first thing that I thought of was to hold
The arm with the knife so that he couldn't put a hole
In me, but then I put him in a chokehold
Took the knife and in his neck I put a hole
Suddenly all the C.O's come to me and it's me they hold
Beat my ass and I spend two weeks in the hole
I'm ready to bug out, my sanity I can't hold
My needs and wants messed up my life on a whole

Damn. Just wasn't satisfied with life
Yeah uh
Yeah
Check

The moral to the story is your addiction to your needs and your
Wants is what causes problems in your life. Make sure you got whatcha
Need. Put at a safe distance all the things that you want. It's wants
That get you into trouble
This is the balance of life the balance to life on a whole

One two, testing one two
Alright party people in the place to be
The party has already started
An-an-an-and it's about to il-il-il-ill *echoes*

Let me introduce you to another type of rapper MC
where glamour and glitter don't matter gently
I'm tired of the Chattanooga empty
Classical like a German luger
Deep like a tune for scuba diving who am I the hyper
Like I said before my radar's going BIBBIT BIBBIT
The microphone I grip-it grip-it, lyric lyric I live it
Hear it my spirit is where it should be
Don't push me if you pussy, HUH
I spot em, it seems you want to ride the dillz
I got em, KRS got skills in the place
I waste megahertz of bass bottom, chill
As I rock em and get ill, I build the perfect spot to kill
Verbal excitement will lead to your indictment
Whether or not you like it, still, number one I hype it
Your album, rewrite it

How many MC's, wannabemceez
Never be MC's, cause they can't MC
How many MC's, wannabemceez
Never be MC's, cause they can't MC

Triplet syllables for minimal criminals
Lyrical riddles that got hard flavors in the middle
Sit back and chittle as I stand and still rebuild on skills
The admission of serial lyrics, calculated to weaken the spirit
will be diverted by this lyric when you hear it
Ricochet any style any day
Any which way and you'll Cherish the Day like Sade
The advanced oratorical techniques I speak
Keep the heat at full peak! My grammar
with stamina, grabs a rapper like the fresh catch of the day
and crack the back of that DJ
I'm strappin and attackin a pack
And whatever happens after that just happens, FACT
Flamboyant and flashy is one point in time when you're not ashy
Focus on the syllable formats and the cash G
G for guard your grill, I'm hard to kill
Odd but ill, a job to fill is to refill on skills
We built and killed style and skill
while poetically recriminate you like a child I will
get ill, and switch to earn
Cause I prefer to slur but not blur
Blurring you're stirring up trouble surely you don't need it
be seated I'm undefeated dem not see it
Observe me then beat it

How many MC's, wannabemceez
Never be MC's, cause they can't MC
How many MC's, wannabemceez
Never be MC's, cause they can't MC

Let's get back to the point quickly, get with me
The voice from New York City is too witty
I come from a era of ?OJ cars?, Latin Quarter
fake Gucci and fake Fendi, you can't send me
Nowhere, that I ain't been to
You can't tell me nuttin that I ain't been through
Disrespect the teacher I gots to get you
*cause they can't MC*
But what you really sayin
You sound like a bitch-ass rapper when he's saying
"Yo Kris you hit too hard" stop playing!
Switching and swaying
Day in and day out, your styles are played out, see you way out
Before you're laid out, your bright lights start to fade out
The last thing you heard is "Who let the K out?"
?No great area?
Everything is black and white we took the gray out it's scarier
Either you're winnin or losin, spinnin the rules of conscience
But lyrically there ain't no stoppin
I'm droppin a lot in your noggin
Cause I know that you're lyrically starvin
Carbon, your name, battle battle
Everybody wants to battle but you BAB-BLE
Who knows ya, battlin me, is the only way that you can gain exposure
I feel for ya soldier
I hate to say it but I told ya so
You know that I know the ancient flow KRS-One
is the holder of a boulder yo, money folder yo
You want a fresh style let me show you slow
your blow, I'm not your foe
Battling me? No no no no no no NO!

How many MC's, wannabemceez
Never be MC's, cause they can't MC
How many MC's, wannabemceez
Never be MC's, cause they can't MC

[Mad Lion]
If a DJ think he man den he better prepare for war!!
BDP crew get up in that ass like a piece of toilet tissue
General Lion I chase them all and I am on fiyah
Represent the hardest crew, you know how we do
Anything tess, dead! Gun shot to dem head
Gwan *echoes*

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!!

(feat. Busta Rhymes)

Verse One: KRS-One

Check, I control your mind with one rhyme I speak
And get you open like a prostitutes buttcheeks
Rapper get kicked in they mouth with cleets
cause they're speech refuses to reach beyond the beach
Have a seat quick I speak or spit flicks on your ???
Time to complete shit, no weak shit, I mean freak shit properly
I can feel myself becoming a lyric monopoly
Others will copy me but repeat my shit sloppily
Shocking me with inclinations of rocking me
Insanity it got to be
My true idenity is never meant to see
I simply use the gifts sent to me mentally

[Busta Rhymes]
Yo! Word up! Get from out my face, before you get bust quickly!

Verse two: KRS-One

Thats the hip hop, the hibby
I rip it in a minute cause I'm gifted
Like December 25th
Now let me flip
I'm all knowing lyrically syllable growing
Even when it's snowing I'm party going
Free flowing and stomping!
Never tip-toeing
Overthrowing the comp
Big up Bronx!
I got more styles than the planet got women
I got as many rhymes as is many styles of women
Don't make me come out on that ass start flippin'
Your mental I'm afflictin'
Actin' ill and sickin'
Pickin' the victim at random, slammin' 'em
Draggin' them to the stage and dismantlin' them
As my Hydrogen turns to Helium I shine!
None of your lyrics I'm feelin' 'em
You rhyme
Like you should be wearin' an apron scrapin' a pot with a name like Mariam

Chorus:

But rappers talk too much shit
And can't back it up with lyrics
Build ya skills

It's time for the raw shit
Not that on tour shit
That real hardcore shit
KRS-One runs shit like diarrhea
Bitin' motherfuckers hear my shit and get up outta here!
I don't care this year
Alot of albums is wak this year
"Will KRS bring it?" Ahh yeah!
Thanks for the invite
It's just about to get hype
That straight up raw street type shit is what it feel like
I will be displayin' lyrical styles I'm saying
Lyrical styles from the miracle child
Want a pile of ill styles wildin' on your radio dial?
Smile
I been here for awhile
Peep my style while I go on with the song
I rock the microphone then it to the streets with the Krylon
clicka clacka! clicka clacka!
Take a spraycan and slap a wak rapper!
Stacks of money for videos I don't have it
You're lookin' at the last MC with true talent
Get your tape recorder fast kid
Boombastic another classic
Turn up the cassette!
All my styles are lyrically fantastic and movin'
While soothin' any urges for booing
Ungluing your mouth from my private
The more the merrier
Syllable superior
East coast- West Coast battles are inferior
Cause I by myself will take out the whole North America
We need to expand rap beyond this land
Set up competitions with England and Japan
World cups for rappers that really fuck shit for fun
....Yeah I know I'll get one

Chorus

* train whistle *
Yo right here, right here
It's right through the fence, right through the fence
Jump!

Hah, respect!
All crew, all massive, everywhere in the world
You practice the art of hip-hop
This goes out to every boy and every girl

Give me relief! I sing!

Give me relief! Squash all beef!
Don't let these arguments destroy us! I sing!
Give me relief! Squash all beef!
Don't let these arguments destroy us!

Check it
All beef can be squashed if you want it
But instead of forgiveness, ego you flaunt it
Everybody gets into two or three quarrels
Leadin to a squabble, someone will die tomorrow
Life is not a thing you can borrow
All beefs don't have to lead to sorrow
will ya, go out tomorrow
I think, you should think about the beef you got
And confront your enemy before it gets too hot
Never feel ashamed, to say, "Yo G I'm sorry
I apologize," the object is to stay alive

Yeah.. yeah.. yup!
You know what? I was just downstairs
and I was on my way up here to the studio and
a guy bumped into me and
and he said.. he said, "Yo Kris!
How is it that you stay in this music?
You know, this rap music ex-specially for SO.. LONG.. SO.. LONG"
I said, "Well you know years ago I made a deal with the Goddess"
He said, "The Goddess?"
I said, "Well yeah, you might know her as God
but I know her as the Goddess"
The universal mother
The mother of everything you see in existence
I ax-ked her for assistance
in lyrical persistence
and she gave it to me, under one condition
She said, "I'll give you the gift
but use the gift to uplift"
I said, "Okay mom!"

So I tell you the truth, really
Me nah gon' need nuttin else
but health, wealth, and knowledge of myself
Me nah gon' need nuttin else
but health, wealth, and knowledge of myself

In the beginning was the word, the word was made flesh
Knowledge K. Reigns R. Supreme S.
Some of us guess while others of us are blessed
Take heed to the word, that I manifest
I manifest the future, the present, followed by the past
Everything in nature, rules by kickin ass
What they tellin me, but yo, you a friend to me
so I'ma tell you the secrets of MC longevity
Secret one: if it ain't fun, you're done
And about your career, huh, well choose another one
If you don't like what you do, you're through
Lesson two: make sure you got a dope crew
Not some crew, that's like an anchor on a shoe
A MAD CREW, that's of some benefit to you
Lesson three, might be contradictory or funny
but MC's should have OTHER WAYS of gettin money
That's to say learn other things beside music
Make money elsewhere, Hip-Hop you won't abuse it
Too many MC's, just emcee
so their longevity, is based on an Uncle Tom
at the record company
Lesson four: sell your image, never sell a record
Image is respected, records come and go
and get collected
Even the records of platinum artists, that used to rip shop
can be bought, for a quarter at the thrift shop
Which brings me to lesson number five, the illusion
has me thinkin, the minute they drop a record
they'll be cruisin, in the Acura
Slow down! You're still a amateur
What separates the pro from the amateur is stamina
Not how long you can rhyme, but how long you've been rhymin
changin with the times, and findin yourself
still CLIIIIIIIIIIIIMbin for wealth
Blow for blow, you're still growin, still showin
(all knowin) now that's a pro at it

Me nah gon' need nuttin else
but health, wealth, and knowledge of myself
Me nah gon' need nuttin else
but health, wealth, and knowledge of myself

Thank you Mother, I'm out