[ KRS-One ]
Lord Finesse and Blastmaster KRS-One
Lyrical styles weigh a ton
Lord Finesse, we know you got skills
Come into the cypher and build
Chill out, all MC I kill
Come down
[ VERSE 1: Lord Finesse ]
Check it out, come on, here's your chance to swing
With some ill muthafuckas, we don't dance and sing
In '95 we out-jinglin
Servin 'poetic justice' without that nigga John Singleton
I do my thing while the fans be jealin
Hey yo, I'm so dope, you better tap your man and tell him
I don't fake moves, I scrape crews, I make brothers break fool
Just give me a beat with a bass groove
I'm mad funky, ask the experts
Cause I make you bob your head until your muthafuckin neck hurt
So don't ask me to match, gee
Cause if you ain't real, I'm bringin it to your face like acne
Now rappers run scams and flim-flams
On how they be gettin loose when they rusty like a tin man
They rap fast, tryin to stack cash
But on the reel to reel, yo, they still soundin half-assed
Yellin and screamin like they got somethin
When they don't got nothin, so them niggas need to stop frontin
Talkin how they be raggin shit
When I don't know if them niggas are rappin or talkin muthafuckin Arabic
They act so ill, they no frills
They should go chill, they all mouth with no skills
When I'm around y'all feel funny
Cause I'm young makin funds like Shaquille O'Neal, money
You want any drama? You better wear plenty armor
I cut that ass like the chef at Benny Harner's
The funky man's in it to win it
We gotta keep it real yo, no muthafuckin gimmicks
Whoever make a hit they the best (That's a gimmick)
You sell records based on how you dress (That's a gimmick)
Hey y