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KRS-One - Mad Crew lyrics
Adjust that treble right now adjust the bass Turn it up stop frontin C'mon turn it up Alright check it out ninety three lyrics here we go Bo! I never want a jheri curl up under my hat The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black I never want money if my lyrics are wack So I must roc the mic I play only the reggae and I play only rap I rock the African the European, and Jap Beneath I got to show you that I am all that So I must, roc, the mic Are you tired of lyrical liars, passing fliers Wannabe MC's, but really good triers Tripping over mic cords, getting you bored A total fraud, this kind of thing I can't afford, so I pick up the mic and kill it ill it top bill it The cough is a skillet, where MC's get fried in it You got beef chill it, blood I spill it After seven long years of ripping the party and I'm still widdit You call my name I don't think about suing ya I come to the club with that BOOYAKA Laughing while I'm doin ya the crowd is booin ya Gimme one month, record for record on tape I'll ruin ya Some likkle awl pon sound bwoy wan fi rule de city His style is lookin pretty beats and rhymes are dibby dibby Here comes the rootical ratical teacha I'll eat ya defeat ya beat ya till ya stagger and ya teeth chatter You'll be goin through convulsions as I flash data Any rapper can be a decapitated rapper now what's the matter You're full of more junk than a sausage Let me show you what a real hip-hop artist *DJ Premier cuts and scratches |
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