| Disc 1 | ||||||
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| 1. |
| 5:56 | 
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| 2. |
| 4:25 | 
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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! |
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| 3. |
| 4:56 |
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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 |
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| 4. |
| 3:51 |
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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 |
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| 5. |
| 4:15 |
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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!" |
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| 6. |
| 4:19 |
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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 |
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| 7. |
| 5:55 |
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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 |
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| 8. |
| 4:22 |
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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* |
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| 9. |
| 4:39 |
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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!! |
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| 10. |
| 3:47 |
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| 11. |
| 4:42 |
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(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 |
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| 12. |
| 4:53 |
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* train whistle *
Yo right here, right here It's right through the fence, right through the fence Jump! |
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| 13. |
| 5:04 |
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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 |
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| 14. |
| 4:58 |
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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 |
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