B.Y.S.

[Verse 1]

I'm like a sniper, rhymes'll strike ya when I'm rockin'

Mad chicks be jockin' when the G-Starr's talkin'

And that's because my word is bond

I get much fan mail and I always respond

So tell your hun to write me too

Make sure she puts attention "Mr. Guru"

Brothers know the flow is unique

I got 100 wild styles in my black valise

MC's wanna be me, so they keep askin'

For me to teach 'em methods both slow and fast and

Others wanna act as if they're better

But they only got one style which ain't all that clever

I'm cooler than wind, harder than cold steel

I get the ladies with more than just sex appeal

I'm mystic, psychic, scannin' all your thoughts

I'll touch your soul, and make your brain feel caught

When my rapture traps ya and makes you mine

You'll submit to the gift and to the lyrical lines

So suckers realize that the size is too large

When I come through, I'm pullin' whole crews' cards

I be reppin' correct and on the Gang Starr tip

MC's who front — I'm gonna bust your shit!

[Hook: DJ Premier scratching]

Bust your shit!

OK, party people...

[Verse 2]

I wonder do you love it enough?

I'm steppin' rugged and tough, never to front or to bluff

I got the fresh cut baldy

Brothers call me Guru the man, yes, with all the

J-A-Z-Z-Y type essence, street type lessons manifestin'

The one who make the fly ladies feel pleasant

Never forgettin' that to myself I'm true

Do what you want to, but watch yourself though, duke

I don't wanna hear all of that loud mouthin'

And try to pull yours out when nothin' comes out, then

You'll see why you can't compete with me

The notorious Guru of the Gang, you see

Starr stands for power, like I said before

I'm like the doctor's cure, slicker than Roger Moore

I slide up to a crab MC like this

Tap 'em in the head with my mic like this

I'll be revealin' that you're weak to the world if you wish

And I insist that if you persist

Then you'll get creamed, 'cause I'mma get real steamed

So don't you try to flex and try to look all mean

A-yo, check it — that's dead, that's it

'Cause all you phony-ass rappers — I'mma bust your shit!

[Hook: DJ Premier scratching]

Bust your shit!

[Verse 3]

Now, when you see me on the set, you know I may unleash a

Lyric like a mad dog barkin' through the speaker

Step off! Unless you wanna get torn up

Your raps worn out, burned out, fucked up

You lucked up, or maybe you lucked out

'Cause at the battle last time, you snuck out

But now I'm rollin' over you full blast

I'm here to let you know no longer will the bull last

MC's tellin' lies and poppin' all those myths

Keep on fakin' moves and I'ma...