Still Spittin'

[KRS-One] It don't stop, word It don't stop, we still spittin! Word Knowledge Reigns Supreme, Over Nearly Everyone When you gon' get it? Aww man [Verse 1: KRS-One] Watch how I spit 'em, watch how I hit 'em Inebriated rhythm, we get up all in 'em KRS you gotta get him, we the best we always win 'em Them cats won't admit I'm in the club rippin they shit I'm raw when I'm on tour you better be sure when you get 'em 'Til you hit the floor and spin 'em, them elements do you live 'em? Or are you just usin 'em, confusin 'em and killin them Your touring is boring, your minimum ain't fulfillin them So let's start drillin 'em, why we ain't feelin them Cause we lookin and lookin and don't see that real in them Cars we be wheelin them, minds we be healin them With books and CD's, believe me we straight dealin them Live in the club them thugs hit the ceiling When they get the feeling KRS-One start delivering So who's up? (Akbar) You live hip-hop? Yo, get on the mic and show 'em what you got [Verse 2: Akbar] This whole rap game is a gamble, some MC's can't handle Financial freeze, your record company's at a standstill While I breeze through a sample, and lead by example Find fertile minds and drop seeds by the handful Man you ain't gotta hit me in my head with the anvil I grow wise, I recognize the lies and the scandal Once you sign on that line, your career could depend on These white collar crooks who cook the books like Enron So I took an oath to speak no lie While mad rappers die over beef like E. Coli I guess you thugs won't get the picture until them slugs hit ya I ain't a hater, but sooner or later "Love's Gonna Get 'Cha" And if you don't know that, then you dumb fella And everything I said, went right over your head, like an umbrella So who's up? (L) You live hip-hop? (Damn right) Yo, get on the mic and show 'em what you got [Verse 3: L Da Headtoucha] Categorize me with the best clique, rhyme majestic With it I get sick and mo' connected So electric my energy is remembered I'm limitless My mind screamin just against the rhythm, intense is the ism In 'em I long salute the young and hungry to shine Nightmares of lost time haunt taunt me to rhyme Been isolated, waitin years to finally reappear Cheers I made it, all praise due, Inebriated These words are weaponry, huh, mental telepathy Rocks for definite, reppin it, 'til the death of me Pain left in me runs deep, and leaks through the speakers In Jeeps and tape decks, then connects to your peeps We keep it, thorough borough to borough, city to ghetto Rock like, heavy mental on the, instrumental So who's up? (Illin') You live hip-hop? Get on the mic and give it what you got [Verse 4: Illin' P] I got five on it, you want it, flaunt it without hesi- Dues paid check the rezzy, the black film be That of a blunt's ashpassed via the spectacular cast To get at the mass and choose sets, listen I rep even when I be fingerin 'em, get it, probably not Probably thought I meant that snitch talk Starvin your brain, I never come with the simple and plain To get at these thoughts, get on the train of Come mek mi learn ya bwoy, you nah fi toy wit de sum'n Microphone check one, no frontin You niggas is mimin your rhymes cause y'all ain't sayin nuttin So mi dust off mi foot bottom pon unuh mat Cause fi mi good will stay huntin' Fi a new day, mon, unuh fi wake up Industry fi get shake up Married to the ghetto you niggas fi get break up Ahh so who live hip-hop Upon de hip, me ride the Soul Train ock [Verse 5: Supastition] Yo I'm not to be confused with these popular new names I been paid my dues I'm at the top of the food chain And I should get an award for slept on peeps So this beat'll be perfect for my acceptance speech Forever loved in your city, thanks to rap My album's a continuous seller like fitted Yankee caps I'm like a demon, crossbred with a ragin bull I'm from the South but I relate more to "Paid in Full" So focused on my grind, I'm potent when I rhyme Tell niggas close your fuckin mouth and open up your mind It takes more than a few weeks to learn I make sure rappers and microphones ain't on speakin terms As far as you concerned, I'm losin my temper and patience Nobody takes shit serious like an impotent rapist So who's up? (An Ion) You live hip-hop? (True dat, true dat) Yo, get on the mic and show 'em what you got [Verse 6: An Ion] I'm aggressive, progressive, words young ticker be vital Rip the game and the name to reclaim any taken title Directly hand out stares to the needle as it rotates An agent to decrepit from rigormortis in flow eighths Not even for a minute can you rap Let down by the sound that drowns the clowns even dare to step Don't ride the rhythm, I order you to jock Your claim to fame was holdin down but you can't hold cock Damn right we can fight, I stay with grudge With no prior budge from the previous And when is it that fourth'll crack cranium, kids come in the picture Knowin that asshole and Ion and you ain't the perfect mixture Like Alice, diners become the impeccable haven That any enter my zone must be stripped down and shaven I stand before you as a fiendish critter Creatin causin collision with a pen Written that hatred of spaced-out squashed men like it was a sin The only job payin me enough to snuff the rough Should have never planned the plan to make you perish Leavin your fan and your uncle and son with somethin he can cherish