I Don't Like Lyrics - The King Is Coming - T.i.

Clap your hands everybody, if you got what it takes 

'Cause I'm KRS and I'm on the mic, and Premier's on The Breaks 

If you don't know me by now I doubt you'll ever know me 

I never won a Grammy, I won't win a Tony 

But I'm not the only MC keepin' it real 

When I grab the mic to smash a rapper, girls go "Illlll!" 

Check the time as I rhyme, it's 1995 

Whenever I arrive the party gets liver 

Flow with the master rhymer, that's to leave behind 

The video rapper, you know, the chart climber 

Clapper, down goes another rapper 

Onto another matter, punch up the data, Blastmaster 

Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everybody 

Call up KRS, I'm guaranteed to rip a party 

Flat top, braids, bald heads or natty dread 

There once was a story about a man named Jed 

But now Jed is dead, all his kids instead 

Want to kick rhymes off the top of they head 

Word, what go around come around I figure 

Now we got white kids callin' themselves niggas 

The tables turned as the crosses burned 

Remember You Must Learn 

About the styles I flip and how wild I get 

I go on like a space age rocket ship 

You could be a mack, a pimp, hustler or player 

But make sure live you is a dope rhyme sayer 

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This is what you waited all year for 

The hardcore, that's what KRS is here for 

Big up Grand Wizard Theodore, gettin' ill 

If you see then ya saw I'm in your grill with mad skill 

MC's can only battle with rhymes that got punchlines 

Let's battle to see who headlines 

Instead of flow for flow let's go show for show 

Toe for toe, yo, you better act like you know 

Too many MC's take that word 'emcee' lightly 

They can't Move a Crowd, not even slightly 

It might be the fact that they express wackness 

Let me show ya whose ass is the blackest 

I flip a script a little bit, you ride the tip and shit 

Too sick to get with it, admit you bit, your style is counterfeit 

Now tone it down a bit 

My title you will never get, I'm too intelligent 

I'll send your family my sentiments, my style is toxic 

When I rock and shock and hip hop it unlock your head, I knock it 

It split quick from the lyric 

Direct hit, perfect fit, you can't get with it 

Some MC's don't like the KRS but they must respect him 

'Cause they know this kid gets all up in they rectum 

Slappin' and selectin' em, checkin' em, disrespectin' em 

Just deckin' em, deckin' em, deck-in' em 

Who in their right mind can mimic a style like mine? 

I design rhyme and get mine all the time 

MC's standin' on the sidelines, always dissin' 

When I roll up and rush their crew they start bitchin' 

I don't burn, I don't freeze, yet some MC's 

Believe they could tangle with the likes of these 

Cross your t's and dot your i's whenever I arrive 

Wide, magnified, live like the ocean tide 

You dope, you lied, I reside like artefacts 

On the wrong side of the tracks, electrified 

Comin' around the mountain, you run and hide 

Hopin' your defence mechanism can divert my heat-seeking lyricism 

As I spark mad iszm 

The 1996 lyrical style's what I give 'em