Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Real HipHop, artist - KRS-One. Album song Adventures In Emceein, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 15.06.2008
Record label: Echo-Fuego
Song language: English
The Real HipHop |
Only a few… will understand |
and appreciate what’s about to happen |
Das EFX, come in!!! |
Verse One: Das EFX |
Well it’s the super duper rhymer rhymer I’m about to set it |
Niggaz best forget it let it be or you’ll regret it D |
So what it B… the D to the f**kin P |
(Yo it’s me the lyricist they fear in this as you can see) |
I be’s the ultimate, drop the ultra shit, f**k the other shit |
Biggety buttah shit is how we comin kid we runnin shit |
Now who you f**kin with is Diggey Das EFX’n |
We flexin, cause kid we got this rhyme and took effect y’all |
Aiyyo I figgety flow I rocket blow a nigga out the socket |
Keep in mind to keep the dread, now they like my pocket, watch it |
It’s the rhyme fiend about a second from the crime scene |
The boogie banger twisted off the lime green |
f**k a dime we, strictly fifty, the BDP and Hit Squad committee |
King of my city, ask my cousin Smitty, yo |
Got to get the dough, got to blow the spot |
Diggity Das KRS East coast on lock |
Verse Two: Das-EFX, KRS |
To corny niggaz y’all get ate, my shit’ll make you faint |
So much platinum on my walls that I can hardly see the f**kin paint |
You think it ain’t before a year and stopped recordin |
Now look we comin back and runnin shit like f**kin Michael Jordan |
Accordin, to my niggaz in the sewer |
Yo you a, corny nigga so we gots ta do ya |
This for my niggaz on the block, handlin rock like Kenny Anderson |
I’m brandishin, stiggedy styles to keep MC’s vanishing |
Scattering, f**k it, styles don’t be mattering |
My pattern’s amazing son Blazing like a Saddle and |
Battling’s a no-no, got more Fame than Coco |
I’m paid and still drips ya with a blade from my logo |
So take your, style and Go-Go like D.C. niggaz |
Y’all know the haps we movin strapped on the East nigga |
Yo, yo, well miggedy mayday, mayday, it’s Crazy Drayz’s payday |
I riggedy wreck it eryday, kick shit like f**kin Pele |
But wait a, minute, cause we get in it for the masses |
For classes, yo KRS come get up in they asses |
What… I say, follow me follow me |
with my syllable syllable lyrical criminal |
MC threats are minimal to my phsyical they just |
whittle and whittle away, with little and little to say |
As they piddle and paddle away, they say OK |
But I chop that ass up anyway |
What’s your handle I got mad MC heads upon a mantle |
I got genuine MC skin sandals |
I light the mic up like a candle, watch it melt |
Cause when I felt lyrics you both are screamin for help |
when you hear it, you can’t bear it, you can’t even wear it |
You oughts to just cheer it, go get it spirit! |
As I fa-la-la-la-la, I’m comin with that rara |
Rockin mics when you was googoo gaga to your momma |
You wanted to battle KRS when you was young you told your poppa |
He slapped you in your head and said UHH-UHH |
But you didn’t heed the warning |
Now I’m in the place, now I’m your face |
Lookin at your crew but they all broke out |
because they nothin but lace |
KRS is like mace, in your motherf**kin face |
Yo DJ Dice, tear down the place! |