Clap your hands everybody, if you got what it takes Cause I'm KRS and I'm on the mic and Premier's on the brakes Going out to the hardcore hip-hop Going out to the hardcore hip-hop Of course we don't flip-flop, flip-flop 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 keeping it real When I *** the mic and smash a rapper, girls go ill Check the time as I rhyme, it's 1995 whenever I arrive The party gets liver, flow with a master rhymer That's the lead behind the video rapper, you know the chalk rhymer Tapper, down goes another rapper, on to another matter Punch up the data, blast master Knowledge reigns supreme over nearly everybody Call up KRS, guaranteed to rip a party Flat top braids, foreheads, a Nazi dread There once was a story about a man named Jed But now Jed is dead, all his kids instead Wanna kick bombs up the top of their head Word will go around, come around I figure Now we got white kids calling themselves niggas The tables turn as the crosses burn 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 mat, a pimp, hustler, a player But make sure a lot of you is a dope mom, say M-M, M-M, MC's act like they don't know 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 you saw, I'm in your grill with mad skill MC's can only battle with rhymes that got punchlines Let's battle and see who headlines Instead of flow for flow, let's go show for show Toe for toe, yo, you better act like you know Too many MC's take that word MC lightly They can't move a crown, not even slightly It might be the fact that they express wackness Let me show you whose ass is the blackest I flip a strip a little bit, you bout to dip in *** Too sick to get with it and make you bit Your style is counterfeit, now tone it down a bit My title you will never get, I'm too intelligent I send you primarily my sentiments, my style is toxic When I rock it, shock it, hip hop it, unlock your head I knock it, it's split quick from the lyric Direct hit, perfect fit, you can't get with it MC's act like they don't know Some MC's don't like the KRS but they must respect them Cause they know this kid gets all up and they wreck them Slapping and selecting them, checking them Checking them, disrespecting them, just decking them Decking them, decking them Who in their right mind can mimic a style like mine? I design, rhyme and kick mine all the time MC's standing on the sidelines always dissing When I roll up and rush their crew they start bitching I don't burn, I don't freeze Yes I'm MC's, believe, make a tangle with the likes of these Cross the T's and dot your I's whenever I arrive Wide, magnified, live like the ocean tide You dope, you lie, I reside like artifacts On the wrong side of the tracks, electrified Coming around the boundary, you running hot Hoping your defense mechanism can divert my heat Seeking lyricism, as I spark madness The 1996, lyrical style is what I give em MC's act like they don't know MC's act like they don't know MC's act like they don't know MC's act like they don't know MC's act like they don't know MC's act like they don't know