Many have claimed to attain levels in rhymin'
But when I listen to 'em I see they're only lyin'
They're tryin', but after some years if you ain't got it
Lay it down, put it down, find a way to try and stop it
Or change it, rearrange it, be a producer
Don't touch the microphone because you'll always be the loser
And laughed at, smirked on, you don't belong
With those that perform their song on and on
And on and on and on, yo, let's get specific
This style is for the gifted, poetically uplifted
I speak to you, not at you to attack you
Maybe when I'm through with this rhyme I'll get a statue
So now I ax you or tell you people literally
When it comes to rockin' funky lyrics few are better than me
Down with BDP, endlessly recitin' poetry
Any time I'm in the street, you hear my voice, you know it's me
KR...nope! I'm not ready to say my name yet
Many say they teach, but this style they haven't attained yet
Run it, son, plumb it you bum
Don't you know that it's KRS-One
That comes to sing the styles that ain't sung
I rocked the party, but oh! Gotta run
Cos only the suckers want a chance at that
To see if KRS-One is really all that
Instead of a rap I jap-slap all of 'em back
Because the teacher that you see is not wack
I'd like to stack up all the hits that I've made
Three albums, a triple-layer cake
And throw it in your face you waste
Pick up the pace and taste a poet from the black race
While I whip you whine, you're out of touch
I'm out of time, here's another rhyme
(The black man's in effect. Jeeeeeeesus! Oh gosh, dude. Oh gosh. Oh
yes, dude. Yes)