[Intro]
Now, we found out some time ago
That if you take a whole group of really super bad dudes
And hang 'em in together, they'll make some music
Whether or not somebody else thought it was hip or not
You know? They be OK, you dig? Somebody's gotta start it
[Chorus]
“Release the brainstorm to make somethin' kind of lyrical”
“A strange form, somethin' kind of lyrical”
“Blowin' up spots from state to state”
O.C.'s comin' to town
“But you just can't wait“
[Verse 1: O.C.]
It's like me against anyone, first full verse is spontaneous combustion
Trust me, no rapper can dust me
Bounced upon the scene with a theme, Word...Life
I cut fantasy out 'cause I differ from a dream
Wisdom lies deep in my molecules
You assumed I fell victim to hip-hop blues
You're way off, I stay on tour often
Rockin' spots on the California coast, rangin' on back to Boston
Enforcin' my theory, leavin' rappers teary-eyed
Fry most who came and thought they had stride
You accustomed to cussin' and bluffin', fussin' for nothin'
Half of y'all crumbs are just soft like muffins
I bake masterpieces, sharper thesis
Y'all candy-coated motherfuckers stink like feces
Needless to say, are these runnin' shoes yours?
You retreated when I gave out hit for wars
My microphone set is immensely brick-wall
Solid in and out, you slept so now snore
Who got my back? You asked, Lord and Blastmaster
Unorthodox combinations from the masters
Mics I menace, when it's finished
You get a understandin' of what we're bringin'; no gimmicks
[Chorus]
“Release the brainstorm to make somethin' kind of lyrical”
“A strange form, somethin' kind of lyrical”
“Blowin' up spots from state to state”
Finesse is comin' to town
“But you just can't wait“
[Verse 2: Lord Finesse]
My decision is precision, I'm ill in ways you can't vision
I got niggas worshippin' Lord Finesse like religion
You can't fuck around, you're kiddin'
You don't want no collision? You better fly South like a pigeon
Good riddance, I'll flip flows you can't imagine
I'll break down your Flintstone style into fragments
So pay attention to the man rappin'
Don't think that it can't, I'm livin' proof, it can happen
I reign supreme logical, verbally
I drop it in ways that you never dreamed possible
So lyrically, I personally figure
That my Harvard style is too deep for you nursery niggas
When I clutch the mic, I'm comin' rough and right
I build more than them workers on construction sites
I'm skilled at it, I'm Illmatic
So “Yes” answers your question if you ask me: Do I still have it?
I'm the realest, the illest
Comin' out the woodworks like them homos in the Village
But, seriously, I got the remedy
If I was at the bottom of the toilet, you niggas still couldn't shit on me
Originally, it's the same vet
I'm on that get-rich list, but they didn't call my name yet
I'll make it special like a prom night, I bomb mics
While other brothers are old news like Walter Cronkite
It's critical, you got these Xerox individuals
But, word life, it ain't nothin' like the original
I'll wreck kids, that's my theory and perspective
When it comes to hip-hop, I'm on the case like detectives
You better step to the next man
'Cause the greatest soccer player couldn't kick it like Finesse can
[Hook]
“Release the brainstorm to make somethin' kind of lyrical”
“A strange form, somethin' kind of lyrical”
“Blowin' up sports direct from state to state”
The Teacha's comin' to town
“But you just can't wait“
[Verse 3: KRS-One]
This is the scientific, extra-prolific, terrific, mystic
Simplistic, meetaphysic, no gimmick type lyric
When you hear it or hear me runnin' through the scrimmages
You are see images affectin' your sight to make you a big go
“Yo, there he is! Look, there he is!”
No, here he is, rockin' your superiors in your hardest areas
Your lyrical skills are inferior
It's because your video that they cheer for ya
I'll take care of ya, quickly 'cause I cannot take it
Your weak head needs to be decapitated
'Cause you fake it
If your heart was caffeine, well, you're now decaffeinated
You'll scream, “Battle!”, but it's the end of your career
You anticipate it, I hate it
Career ended, how splendid
For wack emcees, I come doctor-recommended
[Chorus]
“Release the brainstorm to make somethin' kind of lyrical”
“A strange form, somethin' kind of lyrical”
“Blowin' up spots from state to state”
[Outro: KRS-One]
Haha!
You know what's up when Lord Finesse up in the piece
All you wack ass rappers better go rewrite your album
O.C. in the house
KRS in the house, world cup final and the final celph of yeah!
New York style in the house, yeah!
BDP crew in the house, yeah!
