[Intro]
You never will conquer the champion, ooh-wee-ooh
You never will conquer the champion, come down, my selecta
Adjust that treble right now, adjust the bass
Turn it up, stop frontin', c'mon, turn it up
Alright, check it out, '93 lyrics, here we go

[Chorus]
I never want a Jheri curl up under my hat
The woman in my bed has got to be strictly Black
I never want money if my lyrics are wack
So I must rock the mic
I play only the reggae and I play only rap
I rock the African, the European, and Jap-
​anese, I got to show you that I am all that
So I must rock the mic

[Verse 1]
Are you tired of lyrical liars, passing fliers
Wannabe emcees, but really good triers
Tripping over mic cords, getting you bored?
A total fraud, this kind of thing I can't afford, so I
Pick up the mic and kill it, ill it, top bill it
The club is a skillet where emcees get fried in it
You got beef, chill it, blood, I spill it
After seven long years of ripping the party and I'm still with it
You call my name, I don't think about suing ya
I come to the club with that booyaka
Laughin' while I'm doin' ya, the crowd is booin' ya
Gimme one month, record for record or tape, I'll ruin ya
Some likkle old pon sound bwoy wan fi rule de city
His style is lookin' pretty, beats and rhymes are dibby-dibby
Here comes the root-ical radical teacha
I'll eat ya, defeat ya, beat ya 'til ya stagger and ya teeth chatter
You'll be goin' through convulsions as I flash data
Any rapper can be a decapitated rapper, now what's the matter?
You're full of more junk than a sausage
Let me show you what a real hip-hop artist is
[Pre-Chorus]
My posse from the Bronx is thick
My posse from the Bronx is thick
My posse from the Bronx is thick
My posse from the Bronx is thick

[Chorus]
I never want a Jheri curl up under my hat
The woman in my bed has got to be strictly Black
I never want money if my lyrics are wack
So I must rock the mic
I play only the reggae and I play only rap
I rock the African, the European, and Jap-
​anese, I got to show you that I am all that
So I must rock the mic

[Verse 2]
Of course, yeah, I'm the most brilliant recording artist in your life
Never have to repeat a rhyme style twice, precise
In a lyrical drought like water to your lips, oh yes, my lyrics will suffice
I'm nice, like beans and rice, I am delicious
Who's the freshest lyricist on the mic, you don't want to fuck with? Kris is
Lyric for lyric, rhyme for rhyme, style for style I break you like dishes
Either you come fully correct or the lyrics you simply makin' wishes
We got no time for fake Black leaders and dreamers blowin' wishes
You's a fraud, I mean a fraud like in fraudulation
I know what it is, the crown of rhyme supremacy you're tastin'
And, yes, before the flavor hits your greedy tongue
You get ripped up by KRS-One, now
Lyrics? Somebody want lyrics from the lyrical terrorist?
Here's a little somethin' for you all to remember Kris
And remember this
I am no pessimist, more of an optimist
Activist revolutionist, yes, the hardest artist
And the smartest, Premier, spark this
[Pre-Chorus]
My posse from the Bronx is thick
My posse from the Bronx is thick
My posse from the Bronx is thick
My posse from the Bronx is thick

[Chorus]
I never want a Jheri curl up under my hat
The woman in my bed has got to be strictly Black
I never want money if my lyrics are wack
So I must rock the mic
I play only the reggae and I play only rap
I rock the African, the European, and Jap-
​anese, I got to show you that I am all that
So I must rock the mic