Rappaz R. N. Dainja Lyrics - Krs-one - Krs One

Blastmaster Kris, I don't talk ish. 

Expand your consciousness and dismiss foolishness. 

No one is new to this or new to Kris. 

In hip-hop's atomic structure I am the nucleus. 

That is the center of the group we, us. 

They, them, you, every squad, every massive, every crew. 

Dental floss is lost when a true rapper jumps off. 

The cash is incidental, but not mental distract you off course. 

The style that I am kickin' is like chicken. 

It will be bitten, rewritten, then performed for a twenty-five dollar admission; 

Reviewed in The Source. 

You will listen, then find somethin' missin' of course... it's skills; 

That's what you're fishin' for, it's lost. 

I'm gettin' too explicit; the track jingles. 

I won't do a wack album, then remix it for my single. 

Kickin' rhymes till I wrinkle, and my brown eyes twinkle. 

God called hip-hop for the nine-cinco. 

Tasty like a soufflé french croisant on Tuesday. 

Rappers be boo-tay. 

Goo-fy, that's how they crew stay; 

Bitin' whatever you say to boost they ego. 

We know the steelo; your whole character is foul. 

Makes me want to shoot a free throw; blaow! 

From the git go, no, get go, my flow hits low. 

Wherever all the dope shit go; there's where my shit go. 

Bee-dee-bee-bo, skank, I think; 

Self with ya groups, everyone else, and the bank. 

Others like to bring the shottie to the party; 

I bring knowledge of self; you cure the mind; you cure the body. 

Some rappers like to come to the party hopin' to leave with somebody. 

Check, I come with skills, and I leave with your motherfuckin' respect. 

Ahh yeah... so check, uh! 

New types of verbal hip-hop I bring. 

When you know you can sing, boy, you know you can sing. 

I do not clutter up the airwaves with stacks of useless facts. 

MC's trying to be macks, but acts like ignorant blacks; 

Freak that, I'll snap your back as it cracks. 

You will experience loss or lack of balance. 

Stop the violence; fry from week to week like an allowance. 

All of you are cowards; hiding behind the mask of MC. 

I remember, thinkin' back to eighty-three; 

No video; no you had to be a real, live, MC. 

Now you younguns grow up buggin' any new jock you're huggin' 

Weak production; let me tell you somethin'. 

Any MC can battle for glory, 

But to kick a dope rhyme to wake up your people's another story. 

Act like you never saw me, 

'Cause when it comes to lyrics I'm in a different category.