KRS One As You Already Know (Featuring Truck Turner, Big Pun, And Kool G. Rap) lyrics

Now y'all already know
I don't care who's first or who last
But even though it's a new millennium
You still got to rock this at the drop of a dime, baby

Fuck y'all niggaz want? Is it Truck, well, you got it
Bet this gunblast, seek your chest and leave your moms brokenhearted
Get me started, come up against this, is you retarded
I ain't shit on you motherfuckers yet, I only farted

Take the dopest nigga from my borough, that's Kris, put him on my shit
The hottest latino rapper Big Pun, up on this fly shit
G. Rap, the sole survivor with Truck, kills all the nonsense
With Marley doin' the track, it's big, I mean Jurassic

Like Coke this is a classic, from the cradle, to the casket
Gonna blow from Bangkok to Brooklyn
Beijing to the boogie down, then back to my block
Cops follow the trail, that lead back to me

I'm waitin for 'em with 2 glocks, blow they balls off like 2Pac
Go clutch, the holy drawers, can't save you
Still gonna be a holocaust, Truck Turner, show no remorse
Go 'head nigga, floss

We gon' be around when the sun go down to rob you
Then gun you down, the fo'-fo' make a thunder sound
Rush in like, hug the ground I'ma count to 10, don't turn around
You see my face? I'ma blaze you

Lettin' in off, another round and another round
'Til your family, put your underground
I told you kid, I lay you down
Spray you down, claim your town, Bronx bound

A team player don't play around
Who am I? Truck Turner, you're learnin' now
No matter, where you from, I'm the arsonist, I burn it down
(Don't fuck with that boy, next up)

Soy, con [unverified] aqui
(Boricua, light up the mic for the symphony)
Whack rappers I humiliate like half a mic in The Source
Blast you right off of the stage and engrave a butcher knife in your corpse
What'chu writin' is soft, I'm Pearl Harbor war

Run up on your small empire and spray your tires like you Armor All
Who wanna brawl with the Bronx finest
Talk your highness [unverified] thicker force like our monster rhymers
Hate y'all B, I know you hate my stee'

'Cause I'm the son of Tony, you phony like fake ID
It's the S H I T, you can smell it
Gun smoke makin' you choke, take a toke and inhale it
Now you can feel it, what? Deep inside your lungs

Like hot pellets when you're shot up, we supply the guns
Now where you from, state your restin' zone
I'm from the BX, B'lawn is where T.S. call home, where KRS was born
Let it be known if I don't get you watch for our God


'Cause when you diss Kris, you disrespectin' my squad
Put that on my mother, motherfucker
How dare you disrespect, bitch?

Aiyyo, we comin' through with the fifth and glock, rippin' shots
And hittin' blocks, leavin' kids rocked, put in a hidden box
Splittin' tops, leave his face hot, dotted like chickenpox
Cursin' cops with bloodhounds, sniffin' socks, sniffin' rocks

No trace, get your clique rubbed, your wigs plugged, the shit blood
Catch your big mug, topless just like a chick with big jugs
Up in the strip club, beer is a Bud, no coffee
Blowtorch like auto mechanics, you ordered to panic

She slaughter you bandits, your daughter be planted, inside the ground
More than the granite, my gunshots'll make you orbit the planet
Roots of evil peepin' up all legal or illegal, the four-fours are lethal
Cock back the gat to pop the wheelies like Knievel

Fire shots to rented Regals
Leave all your peoples with palsy in they cerebrals
Deadly as an addicts needle, let automatics reap you
Sweep you, I'm sendin' you to Lucifer to keep you

Heat you, nail you to the cross on top of the church's steeple
Red dots cover your face like the measles
Next up
(I believe that's me)
Aiyyo, KRS, light up the mic for the symphony

Yo, yo, yo, bitch ass, here's a quick class
I'm the Blastmaster 'cause I blast and whip ass, this'll be over quick, fast
Keep mixin' it, spittin' it, bendin' it
Did it like juice with gin in it, ha, ha, jackpot, we winnin' it

You talk that shit but you really illiterate
Read your shit like he, he, he, teh, teh, teh, teh
Sound out the word, connect the noun with the verb
Stick with bird-bird 'cause the battle's absurd

Don't let these young kids go soup that ass up
You'll get smashed up, you gassed up, you puttin' that ass up, really?
I don't even see you in the new millennium
I see you like on VH1 with Milli Vanilli an' them

Talkin' about what you used to have, your abusive dad
Oh, it's so, so sad 'cause I'm just so, so death defyin', mesmerizin'
Every time you say you dope that's false advertisin' but it's not surprisin'
You lyin', you ain't no battle hog

What you got one demo, against my 12 year catalog?
Nigga, back up, this is the Bronx in the house
Truck Turner, KRS without a doubt

Now y'all rippin' my damn microphone, down to nothin'
Kool G. Rap, Big Punisher, my man, Truck Turner
KRS-One, y'all never get on my damn microphone again
Y'all crazy, get out of here, beat it