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