[ 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