I hear the same old rhyme the same old style
The same old runner has ran the mile
See I don't know exactly what you know

But what I know is that stuff gotta go
Usually when I pick up the mic
Something ill jumps out my mouth for that night

I like to talk about fact not fiction
I got some fantasy rhymes but just listen
Everything I write is premeditated

Suckas want to fake it I just hate it
Bitin' routines or sayin' somethin' kinda weak
My words are comprehended every time I speak

Or have spoken, no I'm not jokin'
Please don't sleep, I hope you are awoken
Stop! Try this again, you had enough? Say when

I am the man with the six-pack of Heineken
I get tipsy
But never in your life try to dis me

'cause I don't battle with rhymes, I battle with guns
Knowledge reigns supreme over nearly every one
If you take the first letter of what I just sung


You spell my name "KRS-One"
It's elementary

Elementary

DJ Scott LaRock and I, KRS-One

Our mother's first son and no, we'll never run
From complex situations like you T-O-why-S's
Always talkin' junk, yet in jail, you're rockin' dresses

I have arrived for the purpose of joy
Unlike any ordinary Bronx be -boy
I will volunteer my services and launch an attack

On you fake educators with your yakety-yak
This is a fact, the teacher is here now in the flesh
Consistently hounded by you MC pests

If you really want to learn from me
Don't waste time in burnin' me
'cause ignorance and inexperience does not concern me

I will emphasize so you will realize and come alive
Never close your eyes, never sleep or you might take a dive
Many people hate me, many people love me

Some are far below me
And you know there's some above me
But this, my hypothesis, to conclude the story

All you fake MC's on a mission, you bore me
I'm the Blastmaster KRS on the mic
Watchin' all these females rock their pants too tight

'cause there's no other creative composition on display
That give a full !@#^ysis and rock this way
You will pay, eventually you all will decay

While the DJ Scott LaRock will continue to play
Cuttin' records, drivin' cars, and you'll know who we are


Make a mix just for kicks
And you'll be on our tip
And, oh yes, there's a highlight to the show, of course

You hear DJ Scott LaRock (Go off! Go off!)
(Scott La Rock) (Go off! Go off!) x8
Verse 3:

Boogie Down Productions, no reduction to its title
If you have a headache, toys, go and take a Midol
We have arrived for the purpose of enjoyment

You have arrived to make up for unemployment
You're on it only 'cause I learned just how to flaunt it
I breathed a rhyme upon you like a sickness and you caught it

Quick, get off the tip, trick, you must be sick
Like a doctor here's my bill, I wrote it out with a Bic
Signed my name upon the bottle 'cause you know I just rocked em

But gettin' into battles really isn't my thing
You're probably thinking these are the rhymes for the century
But please don't mention me


It's only elementary
Elementary

All it really is to me and Scott La Rock, is elementary
Elementary
Elementary