[KRS-One:]
It don't stop, word
It don't stop, we still spittin! Word
Knowledge Reigns Supreme, Over Nearly Everyone
When you gon' get it? Aww man
Watch how I spit 'em, watch how I hit 'em
Inebriated rhythm, we get up all in 'em
KRS you gotta get him, we the best we always win 'em
Them cats won't admit I'm in the club rippin they shit
I'm raw when I'm on tour you better be sure when you get 'em
'Til you hit the floor and spin 'em, them elements do you live 'em?
Or are you just usin 'em, confusin 'em and killin them
Your touring is boring, your minimum ain't fulfillin them
So let's start drillin 'em, why we ain't feelin them
Cause we lookin and lookin and don't see that real in them
Cars we be wheelin them, minds we be healin them
With books and CD's, believe me we straight dealin them
Live in the club them thugs hit the ceiling
When they get the feeling KRS-One start delivering
So who's up? (Akbar) You live hip-hop?
Yo, get on the mic and show 'em what you got
[Akbar:]
This whole rap game is a gamble, some MC's can't handle
Financial freeze, your record company's at a standstill
While I breeze through a sample, and lead by example
Find fertile minds and drop seeds by the handful
Man you ain't gotta hit me in my head with the anvil
I grow wise, I recognize the lies and the scandal
Once you sign on that line, your career could depend on
these white collar crooks who cook the books like Enron
So I took an oath to speak no lie
While mad rappers die over beef like E. Coli
I guess you thugs won't get the picture until them slugs hit ya
I ain't a hater, but sooner or later "Love's Gonna Get 'Cha"
And if you don't know that, then you dumb fella
And everything I said, went right over your head, like an umbrella
So who's up? (L) You live hip-hop? (Damn right)
Yo, get on the mic and show 'em what you got
[L Da Headtoucha:]
Categorize me with the best clique, rhyme majestic
with it I get sick and mo' connected
So electric my energy is remembered I'm limitless
My mind screamin just against the rhythm, intense is the ism
In 'em I long salute the young and hungry to shine
Nightmares of lost time haunt taunt me to rhyme
Been isolated, waitin years to finally reappear
Cheers I made it, all praise due, Inebriated
These words are weaponry, huh, mental telepathy
Rocks for definite, reppin it, 'til the death of me
Pain left in me runs deep, and leaks through the speakers
In Jeeps and tape decks, then connects to your peeps
We keep it, thorough borough to borough, city to ghetto
Rock like, heavy mental on the, instrumental
So who's up? (Illin') You live hip-hop?
Get on the mic and give it what you got
[Illin' P:]
I got five on it, you want it, flaunt it without hazzy
Dues paid check the rezzy, the black film be
that of a blunt's ash, past he of the spectacular cash
