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Verse 1: I hear the same old rhyme, the same old style The same old runner has ran the mile See, I don't know exactly what you know But what I know is that stuff gotta go Usually when I pick up the mic Something ill jumps out my mouth for that night I like to talk about fact not fiction I got some fantasy rhymes but just listen Everything I write is premeditated Suckas wanna fake it, I just hate it Bitin routines or sayin somethin kinda weak My words are comprehended every time I speak Or have spoken, no I'm not jokin Please don't sleep, I hope you are awoken Stop! Try this again, you had enough? Say when I am the man with the six-pack of Heineken I get tipsy But never in your life try to dis me Cos I don't battle with rhymes, I battle with guns Knowledge reigns supreme over nearly every one If you take the first letter of what I just sung You spell my name "KRS-One" It's elementary Elementary Verse 2: DJ Scott LaRock and I: KRS-One Our mother's first son and no, we'll never run From complex situations like you T-O-Y-S's Always talkin junk, yet in jail, you're rockin dresses I have arrived for the purpose of joy Unlike any ordinary Bronx b-boy I will volunteer my services and launch an attack On you fake educators with your yakety-yak This is a fact, the teacher is here now in the flesh Consistently hounded by you MC pests If you really want to learn from me Don't waste time in burnin me Cos ignorance and inexperience does not concern me I will emphasize so you will

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