KRS One — Mad Crew

Слушать KRS One — Mad Crew

Текст KRS One — Mad Crew

I got the
(Mad, mad crew up in the house)
I’m wit the
I be chillin’wit the
I’m rollin’wit the
Verse One:
See, this is what I’m sayin’and I know you don’t see this
Wack, underpriveledged MCs think they can see Kris
They watchin’too much television and they rocka
This ain’t the TV show Taxi, and I ain’t Lotka
I break an MC off proper, yo don’t check me Ask your Moms and Pops, yo they respect me But here you stand, tryin’to get yours, but gettin’NOTHIN’

You probably can’t spell Boogie Down or Productions
I play for jeeps, I play for keeps, I play for streets, believe me Put down the microphone and consider a squeegie
You’re rated PG
Again I win when I begin
I’m slammin’again, no win, try to comprehend
I don’t bend
I ravage and damage
I’m wild like a savage, kickin’asses
Hot flashes, your style’s with trash’s
Stay out of my classes, PUNK

Stay out of my classes — yo Verse Two:
Twinkle, twinkle to the little rap star
I got all type of MC tongue in a pickle jar
So here’s a quick freestyle to my target:
My core audience, *fuck* the rest of the market!
‘Cause I spark it, styles I loanshark it Then break your legs if you try to chart it I got heart, it Doesn’t take a lot to rock a record, get wit it Some MCs can’t rock for five minutes
Sorry, that’s not the way to approach me Use caution
I rip up lyrical crews and MCs often
You probably don’t know this:
I give birth to MCs
And I also give abortions
I’ll do a number to your body structure

You look like supper
And I’m that _hungry_ motherfucker!
You don’t wanna be on the menu!
I’ll end you, twist you up and bend you
Like Gestapo
Pick up the microphone and crush up MC like a taco
No, we’re never sad because we nah deal with sorrow
That’s why dem challenge me, jah man you know dem challenge trouble
Me are number one of me there is no double!
And you don’t want no trouble
‘Cause Blastmaster KRS is flashin’lyrics on the double
Verse Three:

Check
Me comin’on quick, me cominadance, now me a sing
KRS-One in a party, man me do me own ting
Nuff MC test, but you don’t hear vowel one
All you hear is when the BDP crew slap them up We have the champion belt and lyrical cup
Any DJ they want my title filled, no way now man step up But when you lose, now understand you get fucked up This ain’t no game upon the mic
Me bring the noise to you like Chuck
Kid Capri got the
Gang Starr got the
Ill Will got the
Flavor Unit got the