"Don't gimme da-dis, don't gimme da-dat, don't gimme my lyrical miracle act
You'll flip yourself from the front to the back, whatever you mumbling is whiggity-whack
What's all this scribblin-gigglin-gangin-and-bangin and what you really sayin?
Nothin you're frontin and huntin, gruntin for somethin
I come Kriss-tyal clear, good as that first glass
You can't last the class, you're the outlash
Or the boom-bash, and the end of crash
Find PM Dawn and ask they ass

I am the Teacha, undisputed Teacha
Bout to see your body like a beatin peepin reachin seekin leapin creepin - uh
But at the same time (? )
This is our corporate meeting, greeting!
I use a little-a-this
A little-a-that
So lyrics I rap will dazzle, when I battle
I won't have to resurrect styles or rattle

The cat'll get your tongue
I'm KRS-One
I'll bring a catastrophe to an emcee
But I'm not exact-ahct-actly young
Who wants to test the respect
Phrase for phrase, it pays, to look the other ways
I'm not the lyrical average, I'm all about damage
You in my face then your manager can't manage"
Yeah we in there, yeah yeah
Yeah we in there, yeah yeah
Yeah we in there, yeah yeah
Yeah we in there, yeah yeah

They are in there, like you'll soon be in prison
(You await and this is faggot, your ass you'll be given)
Who you kiddin'? You're only tryin' to rock a party
You ain't really down to shoot nobody
So why you frontin'? Sayin' from the cops you be runnin'
In jail in a pair of panties you look just stunning
You pop all that wannabe shit on vinyl
Until your ass is bein' pumped by some faggot named Lionel
In jail you ain't got respect
You a fairy, I'll be takin' your commissary
And the picture of your sister, mister
As seamy as Pee-Wee Herman, I ain't trying to diss her
This ain't no bullshit game and I ain't changed
I'm just thinkin' long range
People died so I can rhyme
You think I'm gonna grab the mic and waste my nation's time?
Step up with that weak shit
You're psychologically, historically, and spiritually sick
Plus you're on my dick
Changin' the subject, your rhyme style ain't correct
You know my fuckin' name!
Blastmaster KRS is thinking long range!
Yeah we in there, yeah yeah
KRS, Kenny Parker, Willie D from Long Island
Heather B, Ska-Danks
D-Square, Sidney Mills
Ha-ohhhh go Brooklyn, go Brooklyn!
Go Bronx! (Go Brooklyn, go Brooklyn!)
The Bronx! Yell Southside Bronx!
Southside Bronx! Southside Bronx!
Southside Bronx! Southside Bronx!
Southside Bronx, argh!