Elementary

[Verse 1] I hear the same old rhyme, the same old style The same old runner has ran the mile See I don't know exactly what you know But what I know is that stuff gotta go Usually when I pick up the mic Something ill jumps out my mouth for that night I like to talk about fact not fiction I got some fantasy rhymes but just listen Everything I write is premeditated Suckers wanna fake it, I just hate it Biting routines or saying something kinda weak My words are comprehended every time I speak I have spoken, no I'm not joking Please don't sleep, I hope you are awoken Stop! Try this again, you had enough? Say when I am the man with the six-pack of Heineken I get tipsy But never in your life try to dis me Cos I don't battle with rhymes, I battle with guns Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everyone If you take the first letter of what I just sung You spell my name KRS One It's elementary [Verse 2] DJ Scott LaRock and I, KRS One A mother's first son and no, we'll never run From complex situations like you T-O-Y-S's Always talking junk, yet in jail, you're rocking dresses I have a ride for the purpose of joy Unlike any ordinary Bronx B-Bboy I will volunteer my services and launch an attack On you fake educators with your yakety-yak This is a fact, the teacher is here now in the flesh Consistently hounded by you MC pests If you really want to learn from me Don't waste time in burning me Cos ignorance and inexperience does not concern me I will emphasize so you will realize and come alive Never close your eyes, never sleep or you might take a dive Many people hate me, many people love me Some are far below me And you know there's some above me But this, my hypothesis, to conclude the story All you fake MC's on a mission, you bore me I'm the Blastmaster KRS on the mic Watching all these females rock their pants too tight Cos there's no other creative composition on display To give a full analysis and rock this way You will pay, eventually you all will decay While the DJ Scott LaRock will continue to play Cutting records, driving cars, and you'll know who we are Make a mix just for kicks And you'll be on our tip And, oh yes, there's a highlight to the show, of course You hear DJ Scott La Rock (Go off! Go off!) [Verse 3] Boogie Down Productions, no reduction to its title If you have a headache, toys, go and take a Midol We have arrived for the purpose of enjoyment You have arrived to make up for unemployment You're on it only cos I learned just how to flaunt it I breathed a rhyme upon you like a sickness and you caught it quick Get off the tip, trick, you must be sick Like a doctor here's my bill, I wrote it out with a Bic Signed my name upon the bottle cos you know I just rocked 'em But getting into battles really isn't my thing You're probably thinking these are the rhymes for the century But please don't mention me, it's only elementary