(Yo man, these people around here in '87 just slippin-dough, you know what
I'm sayin? Boogie Down Productions not slippin-dough, so hold ya hands-you
know what I'm sayin? (word) Yo! What's goin' on? Mr. Magic-you know what
happened? He slipped on us-he die. Pumpin KISS FM, we rock. To my man DJ
Red Alert- we chillin' (word). Yo man! Yo do, heard about, man, this shit
about this kid-Wearin' the, ah, Jerry Curls, man. Word up! He was slippin'.
Yo dough, word up, word up. He had a yellow coat on, but no description was
given)

Now what you just heard, people, was a little kickin
But let me tell you this while the clock is still tickin
This is the warning, known as the caution:
Do not attempt to dis cuz you'll soften
Just like a pillow, or better yet a mattress
You can't match this style or attack this
While I'm telling you, write on schedule
Fuck with K-R-S and I'll bury you
Deep in the dirt, or sand with a shovel
No fight, no scurry, or scuffle, just muffle
Total domination on stage
Kris is the name, 22 is the age
Those who wanna battle, I know who you are
You got a little girl, you drive a little car
You come into the place with that look on your face
Before you ran the mile, you lost the race
So assume you're doomed when you step in the room
I'll be the witch and you'll be the broom
I'll ride you, guide you into the concrete
I'll slide you to a funky beat
So what do we have here?
A sucka in fear
I snatched your heart
Put it way up on the chart
At ten you're fucked
At nine you suck
At eight you're a sucker
At seven-a mothafucka
At six you're slapped
At five you're just wacked
At four you're lost
At three, you're just soft
At two you're an ass
At one, you're a dick
But before you slip, I'll whip
Cuz homeboy, ya slippin'

(Yo get my slip on, I'm chillin on. A long time, ya see me slip on, crop D,
and I'll slip on, everybody-I slip on. Sayin? I'll come back if I miss you,
sayin?)

I understand that music calms the savage beast
But keep in mind that I compose my music piece by piece
First a bass, a snare
A little cut over there
I add my name K-R-S
And the shit becomes fresh
I ask Moe and ICU for their thoughts
Layin' down a power play all the suckas are tought
One again, the tactics of original arts
We're gettin' payed to the end cuz we were down from the start
We're known as Boogie Down Productions, ain't no B-boy stance
Gauranteed to make ya dance, if you give us a chance
We're goin' off and of course all ya suckas are lost
You wanna hear a fresh rhyme? You've come to the source
Because I'm the type of guy who's not put up on a pedestal
Run my rhyme on time and on schedule
One after another, another to the next
Can't rhyme when you're tense, or your muscles won't flex
Check your larynx
It may get lower havin' sex
Or may get higher
When bustin' as a liar
These are the things I teach so be tought
To me you're kinda short, how many battles have you fought?
If you come up with a number, notebook, or list
It just doesn't matter, you can still get dissed
I'm bringin' back that ol' New York rap
That gets you jacked while you're hands still clap
It's funny
Just dissin' you I can make money
But noone's tippin'
My message is simple: Ya' slippin!

(They slippin'-dough-1987-they spippin', but we goin' all the way to the top
man (word)-you know what I'm sayin? To my brother KRS-1, you're large, I'm
sayin, large-everytime, man, large. They're slippin')

E-N-O, S-R-K
When you go through other albums, you're sure to say
Goddam! They all seem to sound alike
Till you hear the crew standin' over in the light
Showing, glowing, on the top growing
The lyrics keep flowing and flowing and

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