KRS-One Lyrics

Album: KRS-One

Build Ya Skills Lyrics

featuring Fat Joe 

Some fear de 'matic 

Ah hah hah heh heh heh EHHH 

Check it out 

Some fear de 'matic yes de automatic 

Disrespect from MC's me nah go have it 

De automatic get de automatic 

Tonight a rapper gwan die 

Crazy MC's waste they time chasin millions 

While KRS One holds the minds of the children 

I'm buildin a followin of a hundred and forty four thousand 

Chosen few heads up in project housin 

A true rapper, street rapper, rappin to the center 

I enter any cipher, with tales of adventure 

If rappers are ridin beats like cars, I'm bendin mad fenders 

Put down your mic and surrender 

Youse a pretender, Blastmaster KRS rules the pavement 

Kickin Edutainment while you wait for your arraignment 

Save it friend before your chest I cave it in 

I got my way again, I'm classical like a fuckin Harley Davidson 

How do you think I kick a lyrical style no and you figure 

It's simple, I'm a rap God, and youse a nigga 

Don't mean I'm bigger, it simply means I'm smarter 

For starters, I come at you poetically harder 

De automatic, get de automatic 

Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it 

De automatic, get de automatic 

Tonight a rapper gwan die 

Ha hah, fake ass rapper, how you think you got juice? 

When you rock a pair of panties underneath your bubblegoose 

(Word) KRS-One will fuck up parties dramatically 

My reflex'll slap a wack rapper automatically 

When you was home witcha mother, afraid of the dark 

I was sleepin out in Prospect Park 

Eatin one meal every 48 hours 

Writin dope rhyme styles that you now devour 

Don't you realize, that I'm all about survival 

I got only friends cause I KILLED all my rivals 

Show up at the rhyme recitals, took they titles 

From eighty-six to ninety-six completes my first cycle 

De automatic, get de automatic 

Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it 

De automatic, get de automatic 

Tonight a rapper gwan die 

I spent 40 days, and 40 nights in the wilderness 

I'm hard, from head to toe yo there ain't no killin this 

I wrote over 100 rap hooks 

and sociological books, while you worried about your looks 

Now you wanna enter the dragon in sound 

But I've got the live club show locked down 

Platinum and gold don't hold in my arena 

You gots to keep it real on the mic, when they see ya 

I manifest, in the West the East and overseas 

The vision in rap is wack, and I don't know of these 

I represent New York to be specific 

The South Bronx, but in Japan I'm still gifted 

I grab a jet and land on your set, what the fuck? 

Twenty bucks for a rap show is still, twenty bucks 

I start from eighty-six, and bring you into ninety-six 

No gimmicks, tricks or lip-sync lyrics 

De automatic, get de automatic 

Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it 

De automatic, get de automatic 

Tonight a rapper gwan die 

[Fat Joe] 

Yeah yeah it's the God Fat Joe 

Representin the motherfuckin South Bronx 

With my nigga Kris, knockin off frauds 

Motherfuckers wanna do what? 

Big shout out to my nigga Kenny Parker 

Ill Will, BDP crew for life nigga 

Naughty Gotto, the Big French productions 

Of course the TAT crew, my nigga Brim 

The T.S. crew, and the whole Godsville 

South Bronx represent nigga, uhh 

The South Bronx, the South South Bronx 

South Bronx, the South South Bronx 

Yeah! Uhh!