Brainstorm/p.s.k. (no Gimmicks Remix) Lyrics - Lord Finesse

Now we found out, some time ago that if you take a whole group of really 

superbad dudes, and hang em in together they'll make some music whether or not 

somebody else thought it was hip or not. 

You know, they be OK. 

You dig? 

Somebody's got to start it. 

Verse One: O.C. 

It's like me against anyone 

First full verse is spontaneous, combustion thrusts me 

No rapper can dust me 

Bounced upon the scene with a theme, Word...Life 

I cut fantasy out cause I differ from a dream 

Wisdom lies deep in my molecules, you assumed 

I fell victim to, hip-hop blues 

You way off I stay on tour often rockin spots 

on the California coast, range you know back to Boston 

Enforcin my theory, leavin rappers teary-eyed 

Fly most who came and thought they had stride 

You accustomed to cussin and bluffin fussin for nothin 

Half of y'all crumbs are just soft like muffins 

I bake, masterpieces, sharper thesis 

Y'all candy coated motherfuckers stink like feces 

Needless to say, are these running shoes yours? 

You retreated when I gave out head for wars 

My microphone set is immensely brick wall 

Solid in and out you slept so now snore 

Who got my back, you ask Lord and BlastMaster 

Unorthodox, combinations from the masters 

Mics I menace, when it's finished 

You get an understanding of what we bringin, no gimmicks 

Verse Two: Lord Finesse 

My decision is precision, I'm ill in ways you can't vision 

I got niggaz worshippin Lord Finesse like religion 

You can't fuck around, you're kiddin 

You don't want no collision, you better fly South like a pigeon 

Good riddance, I flip flows you can't imagine 

I break down your Flintstone style, into fragments 

So pay attention to the man rappin 

Don't think that it can't, I'm livin proof, it can happen 

I reign supreme logical, verbally, I drop it in ways 

that you never dreamed possible 

So lyrically, I personally figure 

That my Harvard style, is too deep for you nursery niggaz 

When I clutch the mic, I'm comin rough and right 

I build more than them workers on construction sights 

I'm skilled at it, I'm Illmatic 

So yes answers your question if you ask me do I still have it 

I'm the realest, the illest 

Comin out the woodwork, like them homos in the Village 

But seriously, I'm got the remedy 

If I's at the bottom of the toilet 

you niggaz still couldn't shit on me 

Originally, it's the same the vet 

I'm on that get rich list, but they didn't call my name yet 

I make it special like a prom night I bomb mics 

while other brothers are old news like Walter Kronkite 

It's critical, you got these Xerox individuals 

But word life, it ain't nothin like the original 

I wreck kids, that's my theory and perspective 

When it comes to hip-hop, I'm on the case like detectives 

You better step to the next man 

Cause the greatest soccer player couldn't kick it like Finesse can 

Verse Three: KRS-One 

This is the scientific extra-prolific terrific 

mystic simplistic metaphysic, no gimmick type lyric 

When you hear it or hear me, runnin through the scrimmages 

You see images, affecting your sight to make you go 

(Yo there he is! No there he is!) No here he is 

Rockin your superiors, in your hardest area 

Your lyrical skills are inferior 

It's because your video that they cheer for ya 

I'll take care of ya, quickly, cause I cannot take it 

Your weak head needs to be decapitated 

Cause you fake it 

If your heart was caffeine, well you're now decaffeinated 

You scream battle but it's the end of your career 

you anticipate it, I hate itCareer ended, how splendid 

For wack MC's I come doctor recommended 

Haha! You know whassup when Lord Finesse up in the piece 

All you wack ass rappers better go rewrite your album 

O.C. in the house, KRS in the house, yeah 

New York style in the house, yeah 

BDP crew in the house, YEAH...