For real
This is HIP HOP!
MCin' and DJin' for the O Mine Ya Know
I Guess right now we should start the show
[Verse 1: Guru]
Who is this suspicious character?
Strapped with the sound profound similar to round spit by Deriingers
You in the Terridorm, like my Man Chuck-D said
It's Time to Dethrone you Clones and all you Knuckleheads
Cause MCs have used up extended warranties
While real MCs and DJs are a minority
But right about now I use my Authority
Cause I'm Like the wizard and you look lost like Dorothy
The Horror be when I return for my real people
Words of split wigs hittin' like some double desert eagles
Sporting Caps Pulled Low and Baggy Slacks
Subtracting Other rappers who lack other's Premiere Tracks
Severe Facts Have brought this rap game to near collapse
So as a I have in the past I whip ass
dropping lyrics that be hotter than sex and Candle wax
And 1-dimensional MCs can't handle that
And while the world's revolving on its axis
I come with mad love and plus the illest war like tatics
The wilderness is filled with this
So many people searching for false lift, I'm here with the skills you missed
The rejected stone is now the conerstone
Sort of like the master builder when I make my way home
You know my steez
[chorus]
(You know my steez)
Let 'em know
do your thing dog
Keep it Live
(to the beat yo)
[Verse 2: Guru]
The beat is sinister the primo makes you relax
I'm like the minister when I be lacing the wax
I'll be bringing salvation with the way that I rap
And you know and I know I'm nice like that
Work through worldly problems I got the healing power
When the mics within my reach I'm feelin' more power
Stealing at least 3 minutes of every rap radio hour
Its not easy for one to give advice
Then it is one person to run ones own life
That's why I can't be caught up in all the hype
I keep my soul tight let these lines take flight
The apparatus gets blessed and suckas get put to rest
No more for the unpure I got the cure for this mess
The whackness is preading like the plague
MCs lucked out and got paid but they still can't make the fuckin grave
How many times are Bees gonna lie?
They must wanna fry they can't touch the knowledge I personify
I travel through the darkness carrying my torches
The illest soldier When I'm holding down the fort
You know my steez
(Chrous)
[Verse 3: Guru]
On the microphone you know I'm one of the best yet
some punks ain't paid all of their debts yet
Try to be fly riding high on a jetsons
with Juvenile making fake ass death threats
big deal like en vouge something you can feel
Style more tangible and image more real
for some time now I held a dozen manuscripts
when its time to go Allah, its like " damn you flip"
Now I'm sick fed up with the bullshit
Got the lyrical full clip giving you a verbal ass whip
Don't trip its the gifted prolific one
Known as baldhead slick, why is the press all in my di-dick
my style bne wilder than a Kamikaze pilot
Don't try it, I'm about to stop more than a freak riot
Style is unsurpassable
And *knuckas* that suckas, yo, them muthafuckas are harrassable
For I be speaking from my parable and carry you beyond
The mics either a magic wand
Or it gets tragic like tha havoc of a nuclear bomb
Then I grab your palm, no pulse you're gone
And if you thought we'd lose our niche in this rap shit, you're way wrong
I stay up I stay on, shine bright like neon
Your songs pathetic, synthetic like rayon
Fats beats they play on, my dope rhymes put me on, word is bond
You know my steez
