Testi Soundtracks :: B

0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z1

Blade - Blade - KRS-One

Only a few... will understand

and appreciate what's about to happen

Das EFX come in!!!

Verse One: Das EFX


Well it's the super duper rhymer rhymer I'm about to set it

Niggaz best forget it let it be or you'll regret it D

So what it B... the D to the fuckin P

(Yo it's me the lyricist they fear in this as you can see)

I be's the ultimate drop the ultra shit fuck the other shit

Biggety buttah shit is how we comin kid we runnin shit

Now who you fuckin with is Diggey Das EFX'n

We flexin, cause kid we got this rhyme and took effect y'all


Aiyyo I figgety flow I rocket blow a nigga out the socket

Keep in mind to keep the dread, now they like my pocket, watch it

It's the rhyme fiend about a second from the crime scene

The boogie banger twisted off the lime green

Fuck a dime we, strictly fifty, the BDP and Hit Squad committee

King of my city, ask my cousin Smitty, yo

Got to get the dough, got to blow the spot

Diggity Das KRS East coast on lock

Verse Two: Das-EFX, KRS


To corny niggaz y'all get ate, my shit'll make you faint

So much platinum on my walls that I can hardly see the fuckin paint

You think it ain't before a year and stopped recordin

Now look we comin back and runnin shit like fuckin Michael Jordan

Accordin, to my niggaz in the sewer

Yo you a, corny nigga so we gots ta do ya


This for my niggaz on the block, handlin rock like Kenny Anderson

I'm brandishin, stiggedy styles to keep MC's vanishing

Scattering, fuck it, styles don't be mattering

My pattern's amazing son Blazing like a Saddle and

Battling's a no-no, got more Fame than Coco

I'm paid and still drips ya with a blade from my logo

So take your, style and Go-Go like D.C. niggaz

Y'all know the haps we movin strapped on the East nigga


Yo, yo, well miggedy mayday, mayday, it's Crazy Drayz's payday

I riggedy wreck it eryday, kick shit like fuckin Pele

But wait a, minute, cause we get in it for the masses

For classes, yo KRS come get up in they asses


What... I say, follow me follow me

with my syllable syllable lyrical criminal

MC threats are minimal to my phsyical they just

whittle and whittle away, with little and little to say

As they piddle and paddle away, they say OK

But I chop that ass up anyway

What's your handle I got mad MC heads upon a mantle

I got genuine MC skin sandals

I light the mic up like a candle, watch it melt

Cause when I felt lyrics you both are screamin for help

when you hear it, you can't bear it, you can't even wear it

You oughts to just cheer it, go get it spirit!!

As I fa-la-la-la-la, I'm comin with that rara

Rockin mics when you was googoo gaga to your momma

You wanted to battle KRS when you was young you told your poppa

He slapped you in your head and said UHH-UHH

But you didn't heed the warning

Now I'm in the place, now I'm your face

Lookin at your crew but they all broke out

because they nothin but lace

KRS is like mace, in your motherfuckin face

Yo DJ Dice, tear down the place!!