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Текст (слова) песни: KRS-One f Ill Will - Return of the Boom Bap

Intro
~~~~~

[D.J. Premier]

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...

[KRS-One]

(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

Verse
~~~~~

[Ill Will]

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 [but sink no motherfuckin` ships]
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 [certainly]

[KRS-One]

If you`re shiverin` get off the pot
Let the original rapper rock the spot
You stand there and jock, goin` [mumbles]
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

[Ill Will]

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
[Well that was fresh]

[KRS-One]

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

 

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