Uh-huh, whatchu thought? Uh-huh, we was done? Uh-huh, whatchu thought? Yeah yeah yeah Whatchu thought? uh, uh, uh Yo, yo, back again, what's that? Back again What's that? Word come on A north face and skully hat don't make you a thug A army suit, a pair of timbs don't make you a thug An ill mug and a gat don't make you a thug A real thug is a thug that's hush A north face and skully hat don't make you a thug A army suit, a pair of timbs don't make you a thug An ill mug and a gat don't make you a thug A real thug is a thug that's hush Yo, yo, yo, check it, check it Let us begin', KRS, winnin' again, KRS one did it again KRS bigger than them, look at them they bit it again I think my gun just gonna start clickin' again Click clack, I always spit back Anybody call my name I go get that In fact we draggin' 'em out, to a deserted route The teacher returns, you must learn, the word is out No doubt highly respected, front page records Off the hook, yet still connected Are you teachin' yourself, teachin' yourself? I'm like history repeatin' itself Criminal minded, you've been blinded again Lookin' for my style you can't find it again You can find these others that may sound like Kris But when it comes to the hands they don't get down like Kris They never ran up in the clubs with a hundred thugs Never had the respect of crips and bloods Never knew B.O., they never knew big pun They never battled MC's, they never bust they gun They don't know that, all they know is that show dat That's digital audio tape if you don't know that Now go back and get my name correct 'Fore I snatch that platinum from 'round your neck A doo rag a platinum chain don't make you a thug A fat ride with chrome don't make you a thug That tough guy talk don't make you a thug A real thug is a thug that's hush A doo rag a platinum chain don't make you a thug A fat ride with chrome don't make you a thug That tough guy talk don't make you a thug A real thug is a thug that's hush Word, yeah yeah, uh-huh, yo Yo, yo, yo hit 'em Kris What mean the world to me? H I P H O P And S I M, O N E and G O D, I stay low key I go down to Hell, and slap up Satan Then return to Heaven, where Scott Larock is waitin' Resurrection, just like my brown complexion When I speak, I don't need protection from the heat I walk these streets and I'm quick to hit first Throw on any beat I'll be quick to spit first And rip town, I take one look around And all you hear is, "Get down, get down, get down" Knowledge reigns supreme, I stay on blast That's why these rappers want me to go on last That's the truth, that's the fact, that's the deal Forget sex appeal, my tech is real And my rep is real, KRS Woo-woop-woop, that's the sound of EMS The rag on your head, it best stay white 'Cause I can turn that red in a mintue aight Now go back and get my name correct 'Fore I snatch them diamonds from 'round your neck Once again, get my name correct 'Fore I snatch that platinum from 'round your neck A north face and skully hat don't make you a thug A army suit, a pair of timbs don't make you a thug An ill mug and a gat don't make you a thug A real thug is a thug that's hush A doo rag a platinum chain don't make you a thug A fat ride with chrome don't make you a thug That tough guy talk don't make you a thug A real thug is a thug that's hush Yeah, yeah, yo, yo, yo To all my heads who wanna see an improvement In hip-hop culture, join this movement We need more glocks than my man Freddie Fox The knowledge I spit to the click it don't stop That hardcore Godcore, ready to start war Rock more shock more top your pop tour I'm sure I'll drop the grade to zero When the teacher return, I don't chase Deniro Like where yo? Where yo? they livin' in fear yo It's a jungle sometime, but I got my spear yo The album's called 'Sneak attack', that's what it is KRS-One spittin' facts to kids A army suit, a pair of timbs don't make you a thug That tough guy talk don't make you a thug An ill mug and a gat don't make you a thug A real thug is a thug that's hush A doo rag a platinum chain don't make you a thug A north face and skully hat don't make you a thug A fat ride with chrome don't make you a thug A real thug is a thug that's hush

Tellin' it like it is, right about now D.J. Premier is in the Motherfuckin' house and shit, ya know what I'm sayin'? But yo, Yo Kris, run that shit, ya know what I'm sayin'? That, that shit, My joint. Run that motherfucker... it's only right kid... (Do it, do it, do it...) Drop that bassline... You want lyrics? We give ya lyrics. Check it out now, one time... (Do it, do it, do it...) When we come in all de dance 'nuff D.J.'s shut up, woy! Gal! Will ya come slap dem up When we come in all de dance 'nuff D.J.'s shut up, woy! Ill Will, slap dem up MC's get ate, get broken like a pretzel And get dissed if they ever try to step to They can't take a MC with loose lips Talk a lotta shit Lyrics make bigger holes than hollow tips Watch another rapper body get stiff Just like in church, we pass the basket As I preach over his casket Fuck it, kick the body right over And say "See ya, hmm... nice to know ya" Got another rapper to see Yo Kris, bust that ass If you're shiverin' get off the pot Let the original rapper rock the spot You stand there and jock, goin' This is absolutely ludicrous, what can you do to Kris Chattin' foolishness, step along quick with that stupidness It's me rippin' this for self, where else ya lookin'? I got more rhymes than all the Jamaicans in Brooklyn So beat it or be seated, Gee I'm mad undefeated Young boy, you can't see me, run along and make pee-pee I was rockin' rhymes when "La-Di-Da-Di" was a demo Admit you been on my tip for years and just can't seem to let go Go, go call your mother, tell her you wanna battle KRS quick I bet the minute you get home you'll get your ass whipped Crazy ill mad styles is what I give'em Not a run-of-the-mill'em, I drill'em, I got ridiculous rhythm None of my styles you can get with'em Still um, will um, your crew come get some so I can kill'em Well I roll by myself but don't let it fool ya If I got beef my crew'll damn step to ya We don't play no games, I'll come straight to your rest Lift up your shirt and blast you in your chest A fad doesn't fill the bill, but mad skills will Don't let me have to kill you kid, god forbid still Greed will lead your need to succeed But your speed, your speech Your outreach is a breach of what I teach For lyrical styles you're a leech If I was Spanish I'd say, ["You lie like a beech"] Wow-wow-wow-wow, wow-wow-wow, wow-wow-wow... Wow, for a amateur you really looked hard But you're really a bitch, when you get it together Call me, here's my card Check the list: you lack breath control, mental behaviour Lyrical talent, imagination and flavour I got no time for amateur rhyme, you could be hurt Thinkin' you're hard because you wear a gangsta T-Shirt I'll smash your wanna-be ass in the deep dirt Black, you'll come up dizzy sayin' "How da fuck he do dat?" 'Cause you're yappin' like you can't be reached If your name ain't Arrested Development, well save your speech Time to ill, I got mad skills to fill Not a fake, I got more styles than Drake's got Tasty Cakes Gotta be the best Gee, don't try to test me You'll get jacked son, even if your name is not Jesse Let's be up front when I meet ya Peace, uh, I'm the motherfuckin' teacher When we come in all de dance 'nuff D.J.'s shut up, woy! Gal! Will ya come slap dem up When we come in all de dance 'nuff D.J.'s shut up, woy! Gal! Will ya come slap dem up, up, up, up, up... (Do it, do it, do it...) x2 Yo... South Bronx, South South Bronx South Bronx, South South... yo, Uptown Brooklyn's in the house, lemme tell ya 'bout Staten Island What about... Queens?

Yeah... yeah... Mmmmm... Mm! Alright, here we go... I'm thinkin' real hard about some money I can hold But everybody I know is deep in the hole A steady payin' job is too hard for me to hold I call around for work but they puttin' me on hold But in my hand a shiny .45 is what I hold I make a mayonnaise sandwich out of some whole- Wheat, I'm feelin' weak, I can't hold I gotta rob somebody tonight and take the whole Bank roll, some cash I gotta hold At the bottom of my shoe is a little bitty hole That's it, my mental sanity I can't hold I'm walkin' to the store with this pistol that I hold... Yeah... yeah... Half of me is sayin' maintain and uphold Suddenly I bump into some asshole He's cursin' me out, but this pistol that I hold Took control, and in his head I put a hole Ahhh man, now I'm lookin' around the whole Area, the gun is still hot that I hold I'm buggin' out, and I don't know how much longer I can hold I feel myself sinkin' deeper in the hole So in my victim's pants I rip a little hole And felt for the wallet, and took the whole Bill-fold, forty bucks is what I hold Suddenly I hear, "Freeze! Police! Hold!" Yeah... mmmmm... Come on! Yeah... wooh! Come on... In the penitentiary I see a whole Bunch of blacks and Hispanics that they hold In my cell I cry like hell, my head I hold One day somebody ax if my shoes they could hold I told this guy, "Listen! My shoe's got a hole But what's up with that shiny sharp knife that you hold?" He lunged forth, the first thing that I thought of was to hold The arm with the knife so that he couldn't put a hole In me, but then I put him in a chokehold Took the knife and in his neck I put a hole Suddenly all the C.O's come to me and it's me they hold Beat my ass and I spend two weeks in the hole I'm ready to bug out, my sanity I can't hold My needs and wants messed up my life on a whole. Damn. Just wasn't satisfied with life. Yeah... uh! Yeah... Check! The moral to the story is... your addiction to your needs and your Wants is what causes problems in your life. Make sure you got whatcha Need. Put at a safe distance all the things that you want. It's wants That get you into trouble. This is the balance of life... the balance to life on a whole.