*snapping fingers and singing*
Ha ha, hah hah! da-doo-doo-doo, do-doo
You wanna test me are you stupid?
Gotta be out of your fuckin mind
Krs-one is the don, seen?
Come down kenny park-ah!!
Hahaha, you know
I dont know what your management be tellin you
I dont know what your producers be tellin you
But yo, you step this way
Youre gettin played, out of position
So let me give you a little style
Check it out
Everytime krs-one steps in the jam
The party is packed, he got the mic in his hand
Brooklyns ready uptowns in the house
Kenny drops the beat and we turn the party out
Thats it! none of the gimmicks, tricks, oh its
You either have the hits, or the crazy hype lyrics
But mcs come half-assed, and lookin pitiful
None of em lyrical but their ego is critical
Like I said Im not a muslim but to allah Im obedient
Some mcs on the mic become muslims when its convenient
And Ive seen it!
Real muslims praise allah, and they mean it
Others are dreamin it with sex me and do me and
Id rather listen to the brand nubians
You know its funny everybody wants money
And material things from cars and chicken wings
When they sing, they sing for the cash
They fail to realize, respect will outlast cash
You get respect by bein creative
And yes a native to your audience, so you know reality
In other words, if you aint a gangsta why play you a gangsta?
If you aint a hoe, why sell sex?
If you believe in allah, how is it you can only work when theres a check?
All of this is incorrect
First should always come respect
The charts are not equal to the respect of the people
Their respect doesnt weeble or wobble
They know the difference from an artist and a lip-syncin model
Right on stage, youll get a bottle
Youre-holding-my-dick-like-a-throttle
Im the freshest thing on the mic dont mess with me
Im fresher than your grandmothers fried chicken recipe
Dont test me, you aint a chemist and I sure aint chemistry
Youre not a mathematician and my name aint geometry
Youre no astronomer why see me as astronomy
But Im a parker so Ill play you like monopoly
Dont entertain the thought of droppin me
To think of me as anything less than your teacher
Crazy you got to be
These type of lyrical styles cannot be said sloppily
I rip it up constantly
Youre-holding-my-dick-like-a-throttle
The teacher will come, again and again and again and again
To set the trend and lend to other men a perfect blend
So-when-their-lyrics-finish-krs-one-just-begin
Ripping up sucker teachers put their courage to an end
So once again, the trendsetter comes a lot better
Forever too clever for a petty mc in leather
Whenever they decide, whatever Im in sync
The lyrics I write, help me think
To guide ink off the paper through the air smack in your face
And erase in haste the rhymes you embrace
Just in case, get the fuck out my face I run this place
Youre lucky youre from the same race
A simple technique will keep you on beat
With the style from the street you compete with the elite
Thats weak -- flashin gold and cant speak
I seek the direction of the brown complexion
So every year, I appear somewhere
That you hear my dear to get one thing clear
Whether on welfare or millionaire
Dont step to this here or you outta here
Allow me now to please change the gear
? and-pick-up-the-mic-you-missed-those-happen-around-me-have-me-feared, come!?
? we come in the dance we haffa likka of a shot an towah?
Lets get back to the hip-hop
You come into the place you cant look in my face
Cause the light is bright and Im towering in height
See there are millions of stars in the sky
When the sun appears none are visible to the eye
Why, the reason is the sun is the sun
You cant possibly rock, until Im done
And finished, and like the evening Ill fade
But when I return youll cry for more shade
So check the dancestyle cause I am not
Softening up its time that I rock and sing
Not about my ding-a-ling-a-ling!
But instead bring intellect pon ting
Cause you can inject ignorance in rap
But kenny parker aint tryin to hear that