I Got Next/Neva Hadda Gun

It's meant to be evidently When I rock so eloquently Put the beat on and let me Kill another wack emcee Can't trust them, never test me I practice and study But I'm not in it for the money But to me they look so funny You can't test the teacher The teacher won't reach intact Through the speaker you're weaker, now sit your ass in the back My lyrical you hear it, you fear it, you can't get near it Cause the spirit eat Eric And Eric your rhymes is wack Like that, that, right back Check it out! Check it like this Just skills You know you gots to build just skills *A phone is dialed a man says hello and a woman starts speaking in Spanish* You know you gots to build just skills, uh come on get down Just skills You know we got to build just skills, come on get down Yeah, uh come on I got that rip track, flip that, underground rap When I kick back Most of what I'm hearin be weak So I speak through beats and the streets as I teach I impeach, through speech, each lyric leech I reach Have a seat in the lecture Nothin can protect you Hard is the texture Of the mic wreckin rock in your sector Better than ever remember I am no beginner I'd like to shout out Eric Skinner Just skills, you know we gots to build just skills, come on a get down Just skills, you know we gots to build just skills, come on a get down Yo, we livin in a world of private jets and limousine The fruit we eatin as we prepare tangerine to nectarine See everybody livin in the same routine We need the telephone, and yes, we need the fax machine You listen to the sound, well I think you know it's me Now, let me educate you with my concious poetry Me want, me want, me want, me want, me want no wack rap Me want, me want, me want, me want, me want no wack rap Me love, me love, me love, me love, me love it when it's bad See if you wack rap you ought be steppin out the back See emcees on the microphone forgettin that they black See hear them kick the lyrics that are holdin people back But when you hear the teacher, KRS will find the track You bound to see the light, and you don't want return back So listen very closely to the secret scientist I'm sending this one out to all my inner city kids Now you supposed to be apostle what you have inside your head Can make you more reliable, it can make you feel dead Now listen very closely to the way I say this rhyme It's the thing called the brain, and the thing called the mind But I'm outta time Chorus (scratching on the word "can"): Can I tell them that I really never had a gun? No, you can't cause now you bouts to get done! Can I tell them that I really never had a gun Never had a gun, never had a gun? Can I tell them that I really never had a gun? No, you can't cause now you bouts to get done! Can I tell them that I really never had a gun Never had a gun, never had a gun? On the block you just yap a whole lot About the clothes that you got Yo, or the gold that you got Everybody sees all the friends in your Benz, yo, it's fat But they ain't gettin money like that Word to my brother Kenny, jealous one envy The rich are few, while the poor, many But you got gold cuffs and cars and stuff You eatin well, but still in the ghetto you dwell You know it's hot, so you make it known about your Glock To any perpetrator tryin to blow up your spot You grab the microphone and talk a good ramble You the hardcore outlaw, criminal, vandal Burnin emcees like a candle, but you frontin You ain't got nothin, with your life you gamble One day you gamble up snake eyes Talkin all that junk about you don't take dives, you take lives Nobody on the block tries, cause you claim you got powerful ties So at the red light you arrive And to your surprise you get heffed up with just two steak knives You're terrified, they take your Benz, and what makes things worse You ain't got guns to burst Chorus