Symphony 2000 (As You Already Know)

[Intro] Now y'all already know I don't care who's first, or who last But even though it's a new millenium You still got to rock this at the drop of a dime baby [Verse 1: Truck Turner] Fuck y'all niggas want?! Is it Truck, well you got it Bet this gunblast, seek your chest and leave your moms brokenhearted Get me started, come up against THIS, is you RETARDED~?! I ain't shit on you motherfuckers yet, I only farted Take the dopest nigga from my borough, that's Kris, put him on my shit The hottest latino rapper Big Pun, up on this fly shit G. Rap the sole survivor with Truck, kills all the nonsense With Marley doin the track it's big, I mean jurassic Like Coke this is a Classic, from the cradle, to the casket Gonna blow from Bangkok to Brooklyn Beijing to the Boogie Down, then back to my block Cops follow the trail, that lead back to me I'm waitin for 'em with 2 Glocks, blow they balls off like 2Pac Go clutch, the holy drawers, can't save you Still gonna be a holocaust, Truck TUrner show no remorse Go 'head nigga, FLOSS~! We gon' be around when the sun go down to rob you Then gun you down, the fo'-fo' make a thunder sound Rush in like, hug the ground I'ma count to 10 don't turn around You see my face? I'ma blaze you Lettin in off, another round, and another round 'Til your family, put your underground I told you kid, I lay you down Spray you down, claim your town, Bronx bound A team player don't play around Who am I? Truck Turner, you're learnin now NO matter, where you FROM, I'm the arsonist, I burn it down (Don't fuck with that boy; NEXT UP!) [Verse 2: Big Pun] Soy, con castigador aqui (boricua - light up the mic for the symphony) Whack rappers I humiliate like half a mic in The Source Blast you right off of the stage and engrave a butcher knife in your corpse What'chu writin is soft, I'm Pearl Harbor war Run up on your small empire and spray your tires like you Armor All Who wanna brawl with the Bronx finest Talk your highness {?} thicker force like our monster rhymers Hate y'all B, I know you hate my stee' Cause I'm the son of Tony you phony like fake ID It's the S-H-I-T, you can smell it Gun smoke makin you choke, take a toke and inhale it Now you can feel it (what?) Deep inside your lungs Like hot pellets when you're shot up, we supply the guns Now where you from state your restin zone I'm from the BX, B'lawn is where T.S. call home, where KRS was born Let it be known if I don't get you watch for our God Cause when you diss Kris, you disrespectin MY SQUAD Put that on my mother, motherfucker How DARE you disrespect, BITCH~! [Verse 3: Kool G. Rap] Aiyyo we comin through with the fifth and Glock, rippin shots And hittin blocks, leavin kids rocked, put in a hidden box Splittin tops, leave his face hot, dotted like chickenpox Cursin cops with bloodhounds, sniffin socks, sniffin rocks No trace, get your clique rubbed, your wigs plugged, the shit blood Catch your big mug, topless just like a chick with big jugs Up in the strip club, beer is a Bud, no coffee Blowtorch like auto mechanics, you ordered to panic She slaughter you bandits, your daughter be planted, inside the ground More than the granite, my gunshots'll make you orbit the planet "Roots of Evil" peepin up all legal or illegal The four-fours are lethal, cock back the gat to pop the wheelies like Knievel Fire shots to rented Regals Leave all your peoples with palsy in they cerebrals Deadly as an addict's needle, let automatics reap you Sweep you, I'm sendin you to Lucifer to keep you Heat you, nail you to the cross on top of the church's steeple Red dots cover your face like the measles NEXT UP! (I believe that's me) Aiyyo {KRS} light up the mic for the symphony [Verse 4: KRS-One] Yo, yo, yo - BITCH ASS~! Here's a quick class I'm the Blastmaster cause I blast and whip ass, this'll be over quick fast Keep mixin it, spittin it, bendin it Did it like juice with gin in it - ha ha JACKPOT, we winnin it You talk that shit, but you really illiterate Read your shit like he he he, teh teh teh teh.. Sound out the word, connect the noun with the verb Stick with b-b-b-bird-bird cause the battle's absurd! Don't let these young kids go soup that ass up You'll get smashed up, you gassed up, you puttin that ass up really? I don't even see you in the new milline-um I see you like on VH1 with Milli Vanilli an' them Talkin about what you used to have, your abusive dad Oh it's so so sad, cause I'm just so so death defyin, mesmerizin Every time you say you dope that's false advertisin, but it's not surprisin You lyin, you ain't no battle hog What you got one demo, against my 12 year catalogue? (NIGGA) Back up~! This is the Bronx in the house Truck Turner, KRS without a doubt! [Outro] Now y'all rippin my damn microphone, down to nothin Kool G. Rap, Big Punisher, my man Truck Turner KRS-One, y'all never get on my damn microphone again Y'all crazy! ... Get out of here, beat it!