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 realize and come alive

Never close your eyes, never sleep or you might take a dive

Many people hate me, many people love me

Some are far below me

And you know there's some above me

But this, my hypothesis, to conclude the story

All you fake MC's on a mission, you bore me

I'm the Blastmaster KRS on the mic

Watchin all these females rock their pants too tight

Cos there's no other creative composition on display

That give a full analysis and rock this way

You will pay, eventually you all will decay

While the DJ Scott LaRock will continue to play

Cuttin records, drivin cars, and you'll know who we are

Make a mix just for kicks

And you'll be on our tip

And, oh yes, there's a highlight to the show, of course

You hear DJ Scott LaRock (Go off! Go off!)



(Scott La Rock) (Go off! Go off!) x8



Verse 3:



Boogie Down Productions, no reduction to its title

If you have a headache, toys, go and take a Midol

We have arrived for the purpose of enjoyment

You have arrived to make up for unemployment

You're on it only cos I learned just how to flaunt it

I breathed a rhyme upon you like a sickness and you caught it

Quick, get off the tip, trick, you must be sick

Like a doctor here's my bill, I wrote it out with a Bic

Signed my name upon the bottle cos you know I just rocked em

But gettin into battles really isn't my thing

You're probably thinking these are the rhymes for the century

But please don't mention me

It's only elementary



Elementary

All it really is to me and Scott La Rock...is elementary



Elementary

Elementary