| Clap your hands everybody, if you got what it takes
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| 'Cause I’m KRS and I’m on the mic, and Premier’s on The Breaks
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| Goin' out to the hardcore hip hop
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| Goin' out to the hardcore hip hop
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| Of course we don’t flip flop
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| If you don’t know me by now I doubt you’ll ever know me
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| I never won a Grammy, I won’t win a Tony
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| But I’m not the only MC keepin' it real
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| When I grab the mic to smash a rapper, girls go, «Ill»
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| Check the time as I rhyme, it’s 1995
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| Whenever I arrive the party gets liver
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| Flow with the master rhymer, as I leave behind
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| The video rapper, you know, the chart climber
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| Clapper, down goes another rapper
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| Onto another matter, punch up the data, Blastmaster
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| Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everybody
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| Call up KRS, I’m guaranteed to rip a party
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| Flat top, braids, bald heads or knotty dreads
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| There once was a story about a man named Jed
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| But now Jed is dead, all his kids instead
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| Want to kick rhymes off the top of they head
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| Word, what go around come around I figure
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| Now we got white kids callin' themselves niggas
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| The tables turned as the crosses burned
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| Remember You Must Learn
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| About the styles I flip and how wild I get
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| I go on like a space age rocket ship
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| You could be a mack, a pimp, hustler or player
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| But make sure live you is a dope rhyme sayer
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| MCs act like they don’t know
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| MCs act like they don’t know
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| MCs act like they don’t know
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| This is what you waited all year for
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| The hardcore, that’s what KRS is here for
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| Big up Grand Wizard Theodore, gettin' ill
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| If you see then ya saw I’m in your grill with mad skill
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| MC’s can only battle with rhymes that got punchlines
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| Let’s battle to see who headlines
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| Instead of flow for flow let’s go show for show
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| Toe for toe, yo, you better act like you know
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| Too many MC’s take that word 'emcee' lightly
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| They can’t Move a Crowd, not even slightly
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| It might be the fact that they express wackness
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| Let me show ya whose ass is the blackest
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| I flip a script a little bit, you ride the tip and shit
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| Too sick to get with it, admit you bit, your style is counterfeit
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| Now tone it down a bit
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| My title you will never get, I’m too intelligent
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| I’ll send your family my sentiments, my style is toxic
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| When I rock and shock and hip hop it unlock your head, I knock it
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| It split quick from the lyric
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| Direct hit, perfect fit, you can’t get with it
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| MCs act like they don’t know
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| MCs act like they don’t know
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| MCs act like they don’t know
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| Some MC’s don’t like the KRS but they must respect him
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| Cos they know this kid gets all up in they rectum
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| Slappin' and selectin' em, checkin' em, disrespectin' em
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| Just deckin' em, deckin' em, deck-in' em
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| Who in their right mind can mimic a style like mine
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| I design rhyme and get mine all the time
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| MC’s standin' on the sidelines, always dissin'
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| When I roll up and rush their crew, they start bitchin'
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| I don’t burn, I don’t freeze, yet some MC’s
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| Believe they could tango with the likes of these
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| Cross your t’s and dot your i’s whenever I arrive
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| Wide, magnified, live like the ocean tide
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| You dope, you lied, I reside like Artifacts
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| On the Wrong Side of Da Tracks, electrified
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| Comin' around the mountain, you run and hide
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| Hopin' your defence mechanism can divert my heat-seeking lyricism
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| As I spark mad izm
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| The 1996 lyrical style’s what I give 'em
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| MCs act like they don’t know
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| MCs act like they don’t know
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| MCs act like they don’t know
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| MCs act like they don’t know
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| MCs act like they don’t know |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Mc's Act Like They Don't Know , by - DJ Cut Killer. Song from the album Hip-Hop Soul Party, Vol. 2, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп