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No Gimmicks

The Awakening专辑

  • Lord finesse and blas*******aster krs-one
    Lyrical styles weigh a ton
    Lord finesse, we know you got skills
    Come into the cypher and build
    Chill out, all mc i kill
    Come down
    [ verse 1: lord finesse ]
    Check it out, come on, here's your chance to swing
    With some ill mutha*******as, we don't dance and sing
    In '95 we out-jinglin
    Servin 'poetic justice' without that ******* john singleton
    I do my thing while the fans be jealin
    Hey yo, i'm so *******, you better tap your man and tell him
    I don't fake moves, i scrape crews, i make brothers break fool
    Just give me a beat with a bass groove
    I'm mad funky, ask the experts
    Cause i make you bob your head until your mutha******* neck hurt
    So don't ask me to match, gee
    Cause if you ain't real, i'm bringin it to your face like acne
    Now rappers run scams and flim-flams
    On how they be gettin loose when they rusty like a tin man
    They rap fast, tryin to stack cash
    But on the reel to reel, yo, they still soundin half-assed
    Yellin and screamin like they got somethin
    When they don't got nothin, so them *******s need to stop frontin
    Talkin how they be raggin *******t
    When i don't know if them *******s are rappin or talkin mutha******* arabic
    They act so ill, they no frills
    They should go chill, they all mouth with no skills
    When i'm around y'all feel funny
    Cause i'm young makin funds like shaquille o'neal, money
    You want any drama? you better wear plenty armor
    I cut that ass like the chef at benny harner's
    The funky man's in it to win it
    We gotta keep it real yo, no mutha******* gimmicks
    Whoever make a hit they the best (that's a gimmick)
    You sell records based on how you dress (that's a gimmick)
    Hey yo, that tongue-twistin *******t, that's kinda fresh (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you're soft but you're frontin like you're stressed? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you're only into rap to get paid? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you're yellin and screamin up on stage? (that's a gimmick)
    When your career is numbered by days? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when your lyrical style is just a faze? (that's a gimmick)
    [ verse 2: krs-one ]
    I guess yes y'all, to the beat y'all, bring in the street
    Let me put my beeper on 'vibrate', so won't hear it beep
    Representin the street, concrete what i speak, yeah, i live it
    Let it be known, krs is not about a gimmick
    I grab the mic and rip it, meanwhile they stallin
    I raise the mic stand, because i'm tall and i keep the crowd callin
    I'm not like those other rappers talkin about the caps they peel
    Punk, i battle mc's for real
    ******* a record deal when you're still into hip-hoppin
    With your country ass, sound like you're still pickin cotton
    You get thrown across the room in that direction, listen
    The lyrical teacher's not the one you should be checkin
    This is my eara, or era or eera, whatever, i'm mad clever
    I shoop, you doop, you doop like salt-n-pepa
    Lyrical terror, you should never ever come for mine
    When i rhyme i clean up mc's with the fresh smell of pine
    I got skills, and it shows
    You could slow or speed up the tempo, your style is fake like janet jackson's nose
    I'm sellin that real live *******t, and you could get hurt
    You're sellin that fake *******t like the home shopping network
    You got a lotta rhymes to battle in a second
    But frankly the bottom line is: where's your hit record?
    You claim i'm jockin, you claim i'm on your *******, where's your witness?
    If i'm on your *******, my name has got to be syphilis
    I come with lyrical physical fitness
    Two months from now you will have bit this
    Watch me light that ass up like chris*******as
    Don't let me come out on that ass
    Start flippin the lyrics i be kickin
    Be hotter than curry chicken
    So whether from the east or from the west
    There's no other krs
    I got force
    I came to your town to set it off
    So when finesse goes 'hit it'
    I'll never mimick
    Krs-one could never use a gimmick
    When you're ridin the next rapper's ******* (that's a gimmick)
    When you're r&b, and then you cold flip (that's a gimmick)
    Start rhymin hardcore just to get a hit (that's a gimmick)
    When yout get over, but your skills ain't *******t (that's a gimmick)
    When you rap, but you don't have soul (that's a gimmick)
    When you cross over just to go gold (that's a gimmick)
    When you're not a gangster, but portrayin a role (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you shape in somebody else's mould? (that's a gimmick)
    [ verse 3: lord finesse ]
    Man your station, cause the clan you're facin
    Is steppin to you trash mutha*******as like sanitatian
    I shoot and throw rhymes, the whole nine when it's showtime
    (what up, kid?) brothers know i can hold mine
    On the real i got rhymes skills
    When the time's ill i'm blowin up spots like a minefield
    Brothers front with they chest out
    But words from finesse's mouth'll leave them *******s stressed out
    They make me sick to my stomach
    (so put it on em, kid!) them mutha*******as don't want it
    They can't see me, believe me
    They all phoneys, like them *******s that be wrestlin on tv
    Yo, they're nowhere near pro
    And *******s couldn't hang if they was mutha******* scarecrows
    Nowadays a lotta rappers sound fake
    Talkin that gangster *******t, when they're softer than a poundcake
    So why you're frontin with the burner, kid
    When you done took more ass-whippins than ******* tina turner did
    You wanna front? so be it
    But ******* beatin around the bush, i just speak how i see it
    Me fall off? that *******t's dead
    That's not happenin, kid, so get that *******t through your thick head
    I'll never sellout (what?) you head right
    I'll never cross over (aight!) word life
    So when i said it, peep the method
    If i never go gold but get credit, i won't sweat it
    In '95 we all in it
    We gotta keep it real, yo, no mutha******* gimmicks
    What's when you rap and don't appreciate the art? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you sell out just to get a start? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you make bull*******t just for the charts? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you rap, but it's not from the heart? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you're hardcore, then you turn pop? (that's a gimmick)
    When you steal ideas to get props? (that's a gimmick)
    When you sell out to be on top? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you front like you're hard, but you're not? (that's a gimmick)
    [ krs-one ]
    Now let this be a lesson to all mc's
    And dj's
    Anyone that come across the line will have to pay
    Real hip hop is in effect
    Real hip-hop is in effect
    Real hip-hop is in effect
    Give it respect
    We catch wreck
  • Lord finesse and blas*******aster krs-one
    Lyrical styles weigh a ton
    Lord finesse, we know you got skills
    Come into the cypher and build
    Chill out, all mc i kill
    Come down
    [ verse 1: lord finesse ]
    Check it out, come on, here's your chance to swing
    With some ill mutha*******as, we don't dance and sing
    In '95 we out-jinglin
    Servin 'poetic justice' without that ******* john singleton
    I do my thing while the fans be jealin
    Hey yo, i'm so *******, you better tap your man and tell him
    I don't fake moves, i scrape crews, i make brothers break fool
    Just give me a beat with a bass groove
    I'm mad funky, ask the experts
    Cause i make you bob your head until your mutha******* neck hurt
    So don't ask me to match, gee
    Cause if you ain't real, i'm bringin it to your face like acne
    Now rappers run scams and flim-flams
    On how they be gettin loose when they rusty like a tin man
    They rap fast, tryin to stack cash
    But on the reel to reel, yo, they still soundin half-assed
    Yellin and screamin like they got somethin
    When they don't got nothin, so them *******s need to stop frontin
    Talkin how they be raggin *******t
    When i don't know if them *******s are rappin or talkin mutha******* arabic
    They act so ill, they no frills
    They should go chill, they all mouth with no skills
    When i'm around y'all feel funny
    Cause i'm young makin funds like shaquille o'neal, money
    You want any drama? you better wear plenty armor
    I cut that ass like the chef at benny harner's
    The funky man's in it to win it
    We gotta keep it real yo, no mutha******* gimmicks
    Whoever make a hit they the best (that's a gimmick)
    You sell records based on how you dress (that's a gimmick)
    Hey yo, that tongue-twistin *******t, that's kinda fresh (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you're soft but you're frontin like you're stressed? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you're only into rap to get paid? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you're yellin and screamin up on stage? (that's a gimmick)
    When your career is numbered by days? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when your lyrical style is just a faze? (that's a gimmick)
    [ verse 2: krs-one ]
    I guess yes y'all, to the beat y'all, bring in the street
    Let me put my beeper on 'vibrate', so won't hear it beep
    Representin the street, concrete what i speak, yeah, i live it
    Let it be known, krs is not about a gimmick
    I grab the mic and rip it, meanwhile they stallin
    I raise the mic stand, because i'm tall and i keep the crowd callin
    I'm not like those other rappers talkin about the caps they peel
    Punk, i battle mc's for real
    ******* a record deal when you're still into hip-hoppin
    With your country ass, sound like you're still pickin cotton
    You get thrown across the room in that direction, listen
    The lyrical teacher's not the one you should be checkin
    This is my eara, or era or eera, whatever, i'm mad clever
    I shoop, you doop, you doop like salt-n-pepa
    Lyrical terror, you should never ever come for mine
    When i rhyme i clean up mc's with the fresh smell of pine
    I got skills, and it shows
    You could slow or speed up the tempo, your style is fake like janet jackson's nose
    I'm sellin that real live *******t, and you could get hurt
    You're sellin that fake *******t like the home shopping network
    You got a lotta rhymes to battle in a second
    But frankly the bottom line is: where's your hit record?
    You claim i'm jockin, you claim i'm on your *******, where's your witness?
    If i'm on your *******, my name has got to be syphilis
    I come with lyrical physical fitness
    Two months from now you will have bit this
    Watch me light that ass up like chris*******as
    Don't let me come out on that ass
    Start flippin the lyrics i be kickin
    Be hotter than curry chicken
    So whether from the east or from the west
    There's no other krs
    I got force
    I came to your town to set it off
    So when finesse goes 'hit it'
    I'll never mimick
    Krs-one could never use a gimmick
    When you're ridin the next rapper's ******* (that's a gimmick)
    When you're r&b, and then you cold flip (that's a gimmick)
    Start rhymin hardcore just to get a hit (that's a gimmick)
    When yout get over, but your skills ain't *******t (that's a gimmick)
    When you rap, but you don't have soul (that's a gimmick)
    When you cross over just to go gold (that's a gimmick)
    When you're not a gangster, but portrayin a role (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you shape in somebody else's mould? (that's a gimmick)
    [ verse 3: lord finesse ]
    Man your station, cause the clan you're facin
    Is steppin to you trash mutha*******as like sanitatian
    I shoot and throw rhymes, the whole nine when it's showtime
    (what up, kid?) brothers know i can hold mine
    On the real i got rhymes skills
    When the time's ill i'm blowin up spots like a minefield
    Brothers front with they chest out
    But words from finesse's mouth'll leave them *******s stressed out
    They make me sick to my stomach
    (so put it on em, kid!) them mutha*******as don't want it
    They can't see me, believe me
    They all phoneys, like them *******s that be wrestlin on tv
    Yo, they're nowhere near pro
    And *******s couldn't hang if they was mutha******* scarecrows
    Nowadays a lotta rappers sound fake
    Talkin that gangster *******t, when they're softer than a poundcake
    So why you're frontin with the burner, kid
    When you done took more ass-whippins than ******* tina turner did
    You wanna front? so be it
    But ******* beatin around the bush, i just speak how i see it
    Me fall off? that *******t's dead
    That's not happenin, kid, so get that *******t through your thick head
    I'll never sellout (what?) you head right
    I'll never cross over (aight!) word life
    So when i said it, peep the method
    If i never go gold but get credit, i won't sweat it
    In '95 we all in it
    We gotta keep it real, yo, no mutha******* gimmicks
    What's when you rap and don't appreciate the art? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you sell out just to get a start? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you make bull*******t just for the charts? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you rap, but it's not from the heart? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you're hardcore, then you turn pop? (that's a gimmick)
    When you steal ideas to get props? (that's a gimmick)
    When you sell out to be on top? (that's a gimmick)
    What's when you front like you're hard, but you're not? (that's a gimmick)
    [ krs-one ]
    Now let this be a lesson to all mc's
    And dj's
    Anyone that come across the line will have to pay
    Real hip hop is in effect
    Real hip-hop is in effect
    Real hip-hop is in effect
    Give it respect
    We catch wreck