Mortal Thought

[Intro] You never will conquer the champion, ooh-wee-ooh You never will conquer the champion, come down, my selecta Adjust that treble right now, adjust the bass Turn it up, stop frontin', c'mon, turn it up Alright, check it out, '93 lyrics, here we go [Chorus] 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- ​anese, I got to show you that I am all that So I must rock the mic [Verse 1] Are you tired of lyrical liars, passing fliers Wannabe emcees, but really good triers Tripping over mic cords, getting you bored? A total fraud, this kind of 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 emcees get fried in it You got beef, chill it, blood, I spill it After seven long years of ripping the party and I'm still with it You call my name, I don't think about suing ya I come to the club with that booyaka Laughin' while I'm doin' ya, the crowd is booin' ya Gimme one month, record for record or tape, I'll ruin ya Some likkle old pon sound bwoy wan fi rule de city His style is lookin' pretty, beats and rhymes are dibby-dibby Here comes the root-ical radical teacha I'll eat ya, defeat ya, beat ya 'til ya stagger and ya teeth 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 [Pre-Chorus] My posse from the Bronx is thick My posse from the Bronx is thick My posse from the Bronx is thick My posse from the Bronx is thick [Chorus] 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- ​anese, I got to show you that I am all that So I must rock the mic [Verse 2] Of course, yeah, I'm the most brilliant recording artist in your life Never have to repeat a rhyme style twice, precise In a lyrical drought 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 want to fuck with? Kris is Lyric for lyric, rhyme for rhyme, style for style I break you like dishes Either you come fully correct or the lyrics you simply makin' wishes We got no time for fake Black leaders and dreamers blowin' wishes You's 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, more of an optimist Activist revolutionist, yes, the hardest artist And the smartest, Premier, spark this [Pre-Chorus] My posse from the Bronx is thick My posse from the Bronx is thick My posse from the Bronx is thick My posse from the Bronx is thick [Chorus] 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- ​anese, I got to show you that I am all that So I must rock the mic