Testo Mortal Thought - KRS-One
Testo della canzone Mortal Thought (KRS-One), tratta dall'album Return of the Boom Bap
You never will conquer the champion
You never will conquer the champion
Come down my selector
Adjust that treble right now, adjust the bass
Turn it up, stop frontin'
Come on, turn it up
Alright, check it out, '93 lyrics, here we go
I never want a jheri curl up under my hat
The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black
I never want money if my lyrics are wack
So I must rock the mic
I play only the reggae and I play only rap
I rock the African, the European, and Jap
But least I got to show you that I am all that
So I must rock the mic
Are you tired of lyrical liars passin' flyers?
Wannabe MC's but really good triers
Trippin' over mic cords, gettin' you bored
A total fraud, this kinda thing I can't afford
So I pick up the mic and kill it, ill it, top bill it
The club is a skillet where MC's get fried in it
You got beef? Chill it, blood I spill it
After seven long years of rippin' the party down, I'm still with it
You call my name? I don't think about suin' ya
I come to the cut with that booyaka!
Laughin' while I'm doin' ya, the crowd is booin' ya
Give me one month, record for record or tape, I'll ruin ya
Some likkle old pun soundboy waan fi rule the city
His style is lookin' pretty, beats and rhymes are dibby-dibby
Here comes the root tickle, rap tickle teacher
I'll eat ya, defeat ya, beat ya 'til you stagger in your deep chatter
You'll be goin' through convulsions as I flash data
Any rapper can be a decapitated rapper, now what's the matter?
You're full of more junk than a sausage
Let me show you what a real hip-hop artist is
I never want a jheri curl up under my hat
The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black
I never want money if my lyrics are wack
So I must rock the mic
I play only the reggae and I play only rap
I rock the African, the European, and Jap
But least I got to show you that I am all that
So I must rock the mic
Of course I am the most brilliant recording artist in your life
Never have to repeat a rhyme style twice, precise
And the lyric will drop like water to your lips
Oh yes, my lyrics will suffice
I'm nice, like beans and rice, I am delicious
Who's the freshest lyricist on the mic?
You don't wanna fuck with Krisis
Lyrical lyric, rhyme, rhyme style, style'll break you like dishes
Either you come fully correct on lyrics or simply makin' wishes
We got no time for fake black leaders and dreamers blowin' wishes
You'se a fraud, I mean a fraud like in fraudulation
I know what it is, the crown of rhyme supremacy you're tastin'
And yes, before the flavor hits your greedy tongue
You get ripped up by KRS-One
Now, lyrics? Somebody want lyrics from the lyrical terrorist?
Here's a little somethin' for you all to remember Kris
And remember this, I am no pessimist
Morbid optimist, activist, revolutionist
Yes, the hardest artist and the smartest
Premier, spark this
I never want a jheri curl up under my hat
The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black
I never want money if my lyrics are wack
So I must rock the mic
I play only the reggae and I play only rap
I rock the African, the European, and Jap
But least I got to show you that I am all that
So I must rock the mic
Credits
Writer(s): Lawrence Krsone Parker, Chris E. Martin
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