Lyrics As You Already Know - KRS-One, Truck Turner, Big Pun

As You Already Know

Now y’all already know
I don’t care who’s first, or who last
But even though it’s a new millenium
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 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 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 addict’s 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 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 b-b-b-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 milline-um
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 catalogue?
(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!