MC's Act Like They Don't Know

Clap your hands, everybody

If you got what it takes

'Cause I'm KRS and I'm on the mic

And Premier's on the breaks

Going out to the hard core hip hop

Going out to the hard core hip hop

Of course we don't flip flop

If you don't know me by now, I doubt you'll ever know me

I never won a Grammy, I won't win a Tony

But I'm not the only MC keeping it real

When I grab the mic to smash a rapper, girls go, ew

Check the time as I rhyme, it's 1995

Whenever I arrive, the party gets live-er

Flow with the master rhymer

That's a leap behind the video rapper

You know, the chart climber

Clapper, down goes another rapper

On to another matter, punch up the data, blast master

Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everybody

Call up KRS, I'm guaranteed to rip a party

Flat top, braids, bald heads or knotty dreads

There once was a story 'bout a man named Jed

But now Jed is dead, all his kids instead

Want to kick rhymes off the top of they head

Word, what go around come around, I figure

Now we got white kids calling themselves ****

The tables turned as the crosses burned

Remember you must learn

About the styles I flip and how wild I get

I go on like a space age rocket ship

You could be a mack, a pimp, hustler or player

But make sure live you is a dope rhyme-sayer

MC's act like they don't know

MC's act like they don't know

MC's act like they don't know

MC's act like they don't know

This is what you waited all year for

The hardcore, that's what KRS is here for

Big up Grand Wizard Theodore, getting ill

If you see then you saw I'm in your grill with mad skill

MC's can only battle with rhymes that got punchlines

Let's battle to see who headlines

Instead of flow for flow, let's go show for show

Toe for tow, yo, you better act like you know

Too many MC's take that word emcee lightly

They can't move a crowd, not even slightly

It might be the fact that they express wackness

Let me show you whose ass is the blackest

I flip the script a little bit, you ride the tip and shit

Too sick to get with it, admit you bit, your style is counterfeit

Now tone it down a bit

My title you will never get, I'm too intelligent

I send your family my sentiments, my style is toxic

When I rock it, shock it, hip hop it

Unlock your head, I knock it

It split quick from the lyric

Direct hit, perfect fit, you can't get with it

MC's act like they don't know

MC's act like they don't know

MC's act like they don't know

MC's act like they don't know

Some MC's don't like the KRS, but they must respect him

'Cause they know this kid gets all up in they rectum

Slapping and selecting 'em, checking 'em, disrespecting 'em

Just decking 'em, decking 'em, decking 'em

Who in their right mind can mimic a style like mine?

I design rhyme and get mine all the time

MC's standing on the sidelines, always dissing

When I roll up and rush their crew, they start bitching

I don't burn, I don't freeze

Yet some MC's believe they could tangle with the likes of these

Cross your T's and dot your I's whenever I arrive

Wide, magnified, live like the ocean tide

You dope, you lie, I reside like artifacts

On the wrong side of the tracks, electrified

Coming around the mountain, you run and hide

Hoping your defense mechanism can divert my heat-seeking lyricism

As I spark mad-ism

The 1996 lyrical style's what I give 'em

MC's act like they don't know

MC's act like they don't know

MC's act like they don't know

MC's act like they don't know

MC's act like they don't know