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    MCs Act Like They Dont Know

    MCs Act Like They Dont Know by the KRS One.

    Clap your hands everybody, if you got what it takes
    Cos I'm KRS and I'm on the mic, and Premier's on The Breaks
    Verse 1
    If you don't know me by now I doubt you'll ever know me
    I never won a Grammy, I won't win a Tony
    But I'm not the only MC keepin' it real
    When I grab the mic to smash a rapper, girls go ""Illlll!""
    Check the time as I rhyme, it's 1995
    Whenever I arrive the party gets liver
    Flow with the master rhymer, that's to leave behind
    The video rapper, you know, the chart climber
    Clapper, down goes another rapper
    Onto another matter, punch up the data, Blastmaster
    Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everybody
    Call up KRS, I'm guaranteed to rip a party
    Flat top, braids, bald heads or natty dread
    There once was a story about a man named Jed
    But now Jed is dead, all his kids instead
    Want to kick rhymes off the top of they head
    Word, what go around come around I figure
    Now we got white kids callin' themselves niggas
    The tables turned as the crosses burned
    Remember You Must Learn
    About the styles I flip and how wild I get
    I go on like a space age rocket ship
    You could be a mack, a pimp, hustler or player
    But make sure live you is a dope rhyme sayer
    Verse 2
    This is what you waited all year for
    The hardcore, that's what KRS is here for
    big up Grand Wizard Theodore, gettin' ill
    If you see then ya saw I'm in your grill with mad skill
    MC's can only battle with rhymes that got punchlines
    Let's battle to see who headlines
    Instead of flow for flow let's go show for show
    Toe for toe, yo, you better act like you know
    Too many MC's take that word 'emcee' lightly
    They can't Move a Crowd, not even slightly
    It might be the fact that they express wackness
    Let me show ya whose ass is the blackest
    I flip a script a little bit, you ride the tip and shit
    Too sick to get with it, admit you bit, your style is counterfeit
    Now tone it down a bit
    My title you will never get, I'm too intelligent
    I'll send your family my sentiments, my style is toxic
    When I rock and shock and hip hop it unlock your head, I knock it
    It split quick from the lyric
    Direct hit, perfect fit, you can't get with it
    Verse 3
    Some MC's don't like the KRS but they must respect him
    Cos they know this kid gets all up in they rectum
    Slappin' and selectin' em, checkin' em, disrespectin' em
    Just deckin' em, deckin' em, deck-in' em
    Who in their right mind can mimic a style like mine?
    I design rhyme and get mine all the time
    MC's standin' on the sidelines, always dissin'
    When I roll up and rush their crew they start bitchin'
    I don't burn, I don't freeze, yet some MC's
    Believe they could tangle with the likes of these
    Cross your t's and dot your i's whenever I arrive
    Wide, magnified, live like the ocean tide
    You dope, you lied, I reside like artefacts
    On the wrong side of the tracks, electrified
    Comin' around the mountain, you run and hide
    Hopin' your defence mechanism can divert my heat-seeking lyricism
    As I spark mad iszm
    The 1996 lyrical style's what I give 'em
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