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My name is that top of all of those that mix 
Turnin poetry into cash for eighty ... seven 
Some did it got paid  some jams were never played 
But I am just a poet who watched the whole parade 
Go by  and why? Cos they wasn't fly 
Others claim to be fresh 
But they're not KRS 
I cannot walk around the street with my head in the clouds 
Either runnin on my gear or havin colors too loud 
Everything must coincide with the way I feel 
And by the way, it's Scott LaRock on the wheels of steel 
So I take one step to adjust the mic 
I get around the whole city so I do wear Nike 
I like the funky beat 
A studio like to meet 
I write the crazy fresh lyrics 
And I don't eat meat 
You can look me up and down, and my DJ too 
Because we make up the Boogie Down Productions crew 
Takin out MC's on the 1, 2, 3 
No matter who they claim to be in society 
Because we know their games, we ?appall their? ??? 
If they need a different style we can get ?large? 
He's I.C.U., he's out to kill 
I'm KRS and we get ill 
DJ Scott LaRock got his own beat 
The extravagant life is what we seek 
I will tell you like this cos I know for a fact 
I will live a long life and I don't smoke crack 
Captivatin the crowd 7 days a week 
You know what they told me to say? I got the dope beat 
For me to say again another verse of my rhyme 
Means what you heard before must've blew up your mind 
So now it's time to find poetry like mine 
Do not waste all your time because I'm one-of-a-kind 
Pullin out, easy goin cos the money be flowin 
6'4", brown eyes, and I'm always showin 
Stupid MC's on the mic the way it 'posed to be done 
?They? study rhymes all week but I be rhymin for fun 
When they lose they get upset, ?always? pullin a gun 
But they will snap out of that because I'm KRS-One 
Not two, not three, but o-n-e 
Get it right the first time I won't repeat this rhyme 
If you think that you can burn me with your amateur ways 
Keep in mind that I been out there from back in the days 
I don't brag about the people I know 
Because they're still bluffin, they're not givin me nuthin 
I can walk around the city with the rhymes I flaunt 
Cos no matter how you front it's still the ones you want 
See, I am funky fresh and poetry is my opinion 
Takin out you suckas while Scott LaRock is spinnin 
My name is KRS-One, I'm still kinda young 
I don't wear Adidas cos my name ain't Run 
Got Nikes on my feet and to be complete 
I can rock an American or reggae beat 
Got rhymes for 70's, 80's, and 90's 
Not bein conceited but it won't pay to try me 
Out to any feud, any battle, any reason 
Make the rhymes up every season, this style, I'm just teasin 
Pick up the pace, homeboy, pick up the pace 
You're way behind schedule, listen to what I'm tellin you 
This particular style may vary, 
The things I converse about are heard rarely 
Some can't bear me, others try to scare me 
Soundin intelligent but not yet equivalent 
You know what? 
I.C.U. is in the house... 
Miss Melodie is in the house... 
?Lena? Love is in the house... 
D-Nice rocks the house... 
?Gold Miss? ??? rocks the house... 
Flavis Walker turns em out... 
?42 Black? knocks em out... 
Til my mellow pulled his gun, rock the house... 
?Naughty? bust it out... 
McBoo turns it out... 
Chuck Chillout cuts it up... 
Red Alert breaks it out... 
Scott LaRock Jr. my pride and joy... 
KRS-One 
His mother's first son 
And no ?he can? never run... 
?BD?... 
?BD?... 
Scott LaRock... 
Scott LaRock

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