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Think you dope? Want this title? Then you better come step up or step off! Yo check this out, all jokes aside Let's get busy
Word! Blast master KRS-One in the house Hah, everybody for some reason wanna be a gangsta You don't know nuttin' about bein' no gangsta Word up! Aiyyo check this out This is Freddie F O X X X And guess what's next
Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, they wan fi chat Every posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is wack Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, they wan fi chat Every posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is wack Every posse wan fi chat, but ju knows dem is wack
They jump upon the mic, an' wan fi do it like dat But ahh, now dis a KRS, me nah takes dat When me open up to work, I put a cape on me back Then me, fly all around the emcee world KRS, the Artical, is not to be Fucked with, [Incomprehensible] with, or tampered with Don't give a fuck if you wanna riff But when you say Kris, already derivative of Kris
My eyebrows lift and that ass I get with As a matter of fact, I attack, hijack Set back, your career, like a quarterback That broke his back, my tongue is like a bat Your eye'll get black, you'll need an icepack I'm all that, come with your whole pack You'll be prayin' to the God of Isaac So Freddie Foxxx, it's time to get tough Just, get on the mic and get ruff, ruff
Soon as I flex, 'cause I'm about to rip up shop It's the return of the hip hop master, Freddie the Foxxx Rappers that see me, don't even speak, just walk 'Cause I'm the maddest nigga in New York I see a rapper in the crowd that I don't like I wanna fight, so when I drop the mic I'ma jump off the stage, bum rush your crowd to whip (Suckers) That wanna be pimps
How I heard it said that a pimp'll sell his ass If his hoe won't, but Freddie Foxxx don't Cover your chest G, you better wear a bulletproof vest see 'Cause I'm about to leave this place a motherfuckin' mess Open hearts on the floor as I explore Rappers that wanted to be more than number four Number one's a hard spot, either you fight Or get shot, so this is what I got
Three Tec-9's, my Uzi, ten grenades, my razor blades And I aim to get paid So who wanna step to this, don't come soft 'Cause I'ma straight up knock niggaz off And when the cops come to get me I'ma take a dead body, and bop ten cops with me I'm sick and tired of hearin' rappers talk smack About who's nice, and who's whack, mother fuck that
They know my style, and my rep, every stage That I stepped on, I was the rapper they slept on But y'all rappers keep sleepin' 'cause when they plant Bombs in your house, I'ma wake you up and punch you In your motherfuckin' mouth, knock your wife out Take your sons to safety, 'cause they're just kids And I wanna raise 'em to face me And when they get a little bigga
I'ma Mark them little niggaz, and put their fingerprints On the trigger double homicide, call the vice Another rapper and his family with no life Yeah you're Mr. Tough and, you're full of stuff and And Freddie Foxxx caught you bluffin'
I got you in my torture chamber and you scream "Oh god damn, it's like silence of the lambs" But I don't mangle 'em and eat 'em I take MC's to the war zone, and there I defeat 'em It gets much worse, with every verse As the F R E D D I E F O X X X, hurts Punishes, stomps, smashes, crushes, maims You suckers know my name! Aiyyo Kris! I'm rhymin' long enough (Say what?) Get on the mic and get ruff, ruff
This is the year that I go all out (Why?) Edutainment's what I'm all about (And) I don't eat franks with the sauerkraut ('Cause) Because I don't eat pork from the tail to the snout (Well kick it) Get on down, to the hip hip hop Before I start, peace to Scott La Rock (Word) Now let me drop the style that has action 'Cause many MC's don't believe they're rappin'
They're lost, crazy mixed-up in their identity This is not, what hip hop is meant to be (Word up) I come unique, I can't be beat, hardcore street For the kids, with a hundred and fifty on their feet (Kick it) I don't compete, I defeat and delete ya Then critique ya, all MC's retreat, here comes the t'cha Chewin' suckers like Smuckers Hittin' on, sittin' on, shittin' on, flippin' on motherfuckers
Yeah, I'm like the movie Aliens I hide inside your right hand man, when you think you got me Bam! My head comes out your chest A mutilated mess of nastiness Chunks of bloody flesh, yes KRS on the slaughter Specialize in instant rhyme style, you simply add water Avian, I pull the string then Ring ding ding, ding ding ding ding
Back in the days, I wrote South Bronx The Juice Crew got stomped, lick two shot Pom pom, really it was magic's fault Always wanna diss somebody, he got put to a halt It's wack, when a sucker DJ babbles on Soupin' up MC's to battle on song That's wrong, but in any event, I drop the classic In 1992 the original it ain't plastic
Everybody know, BDP, is fantastic, burn like acid Credit card plastic, stretch like elastic Love and respect is the tactic Bam! In your motherfuckin' face KRS in the place I never liked listening to bitches and hoes anyway
Well you know I like hoes, 'cause I'm a mack But I don't like the wack tracks, you know what I'm sayin' And for all your suckers out there That underestimate the militant mack, get the bo-zack You know what I mean? Word (Word)
You know why? Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, they wan fi chat Every posse wan fi chat, but ya knows dey is wack Every posse wan fi chat, they wan fi chat, you know dem a wack Every posse wan fi chat, but ya knows dey is wack
Yes fresh for nineteen ninety-two you suckers Motherfuckers!