Mortal Thought Lyrics
| Song | Mortal Thought |
| Artist | KRS-One |
| Album | Return of the Boom Bap |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Parker | |
| Adjust that treble right now adjust the bass | |
| Turn it up, stop frontin | |
| C'mon, turn it up | |
| Alright, check it out ninety-three lyrics, here we go | |
| Bo! | |
| I never want a jheri curl up under my hat | |
| The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black | |
| I never want money if my lyrics are wack | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| I play only the reggae and I play only rap | |
| I rock the African, the European, and Jap | |
| Beneath I got to show you that I am all that | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| Are you tired of lyrical liars, passing fliers | |
| Wannabe MC's, but really good triers | |
| Tripping over mic cords, getting you bored | |
| A total fraud, this kind of thing I can't afford, so I | |
| pick up the mic and kill it ill it top bill it | |
| The cough is a skillet, where MC's get fried in it | |
| You got beef chill it, blood I spill it | |
| After seven long years of ripping the party and I'm still widdit | |
| You call my name I don't think about suing ya | |
| I come to the club with that BOOYAKA | |
| Laughing while I'm doin ya the crowd is booin ya | |
| Gimme one month, record for record on tape I'll ruin ya | |
| Some likkle awl pon sound bwoy wan fi rule de city | |
| His style is lookin pretty beats and rhymes are dibby dibby | |
| Here comes the rootical ratical teacha | |
| I'll eat ya defeat ya beat ya till ya stagger and ya teeth chatter | |
| You'll be goin through convulsions as I flash data | |
| Any rapper can be a decapitated rapper now what's the matter | |
| You're full of more junk than a sausage | |
| Let me show you what a real hip-hop artist | |
| *DJ Premier cuts and scratches "My posse from the Bronx is thick!"* | |
| I never want a jheri curl up under my hat | |
| The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black | |
| I never want money if my lyrics are wack | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| I play only the reggae and I play only rap | |
| I rock the African, the European, and Jap | |
| Beneath I got to show you that I am all that | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| Of course yeah I'm the most brilliant recording artist in your life | |
| Never have to repeat a rhyme style twice, precise | |
| In a lyrical drought like water to your lips oh yes my lyrics will suffice | |
| I'm nice, like beans and rice, I am delicious | |
| Who's the freshest lyricist on the mic, you don't want to **** with Kris is | |
| Lyric for lyric rhyme for rhyme style for style I break you like dishes | |
| Either you come fully correct or the lyrics you simply makin wishes | |
| We got no time for fake black leaders and dreamers blowin wishes | |
| youse a fraud, I mean a fraud like in fraudulation | |
| I know what it is, the crown of rhyme supremacy you're tastin | |
| And yes, before the flavor hits your greedy tongue | |
| You get ripped up by KRS-One | |
| Now, lyrics, somebody want lyrics, from the lyrical terrorist | |
| Here's a little somethin for you all to remember Kris, and remember this | |
| I am no pessimist, more of an optimist | |
| Activist revolutionist, yes the hardest artist | |
| And the smartest, Premier, spark this | |
| *Premier cuts and scratches "My posse from the Bronx is thick!"* | |
| I never want a jheri curl up under my hat | |
| The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black | |
| I never want money if my lyrics are wack | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| I play only the reggae and I play only rap | |
| I rock the African, the European, and Jap | |
| Beneath I got to show you that I am all that | |
| So I must, roc, the mic |
| zuo ci : Parker | |
| Adjust that treble right now adjust the bass | |
| Turn it up, stop frontin | |
| C' mon, turn it up | |
| Alright, check it out ninetythree lyrics, here we go | |
| Bo! | |
| I never want a jheri curl up under my hat | |
| The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black | |
| I never want money if my lyrics are wack | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| I play only the reggae and I play only rap | |
| I rock the African, the European, and Jap | |
| Beneath I got to show you that I am all that | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| Are you tired of lyrical liars, passing fliers | |
| Wannabe MC' s, but really good triers | |
| Tripping over mic cords, getting you bored | |
| A total fraud, this kind of thing I can' t afford, so I | |
| pick up the mic and kill it ill it top bill it | |
| The cough is a skillet, where MC' s get fried in it | |
| You got beef chill it, blood I spill it | |
| After seven long years of ripping the party and I' m still widdit | |
| You call my name I don' t think about suing ya | |
| I come to the club with that BOOYAKA | |
| Laughing while I' m doin ya the crowd is booin ya | |
| Gimme one month, record for record on tape I' ll ruin ya | |
| Some likkle awl pon sound bwoy wan fi rule de city | |
| His style is lookin pretty beats and rhymes are dibby dibby | |
| Here comes the rootical ratical teacha | |
| I' ll eat ya defeat ya beat ya till ya stagger and ya teeth chatter | |
| You' ll be goin through convulsions as I flash data | |
| Any rapper can be a decapitated rapper now what' s the matter | |
| You' re full of more junk than a sausage | |
| Let me show you what a real hiphop artist | |
| DJ Premier cuts and scratches " My posse from the Bronx is thick!" | |
| I never want a jheri curl up under my hat | |
| The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black | |
| I never want money if my lyrics are wack | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| I play only the reggae and I play only rap | |
| I rock the African, the European, and Jap | |
| Beneath I got to show you that I am all that | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| Of course yeah I' m the most brilliant recording artist in your life | |
| Never have to repeat a rhyme style twice, precise | |
| In a lyrical drought like water to your lips oh yes my lyrics will suffice | |
| I' m nice, like beans and rice, I am delicious | |
| Who' s the freshest lyricist on the mic, you don' t want to with Kris is | |
| Lyric for lyric rhyme for rhyme style for style I break you like dishes | |
| Either you come fully correct or the lyrics you simply makin wishes | |
| We got no time for fake black leaders and dreamers blowin wishes | |
| youse a fraud, I mean a fraud like in fraudulation | |
| I know what it is, the crown of rhyme supremacy you' re tastin | |
| And yes, before the flavor hits your greedy tongue | |
| You get ripped up by KRSOne | |
| Now, lyrics, somebody want lyrics, from the lyrical terrorist | |
| Here' s a little somethin for you all to remember Kris, and remember this | |
| I am no pessimist, more of an optimist | |
| Activist revolutionist, yes the hardest artist | |
| And the smartest, Premier, spark this | |
| Premier cuts and scratches " My posse from the Bronx is thick!" | |
| I never want a jheri curl up under my hat | |
| The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black | |
| I never want money if my lyrics are wack | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| I play only the reggae and I play only rap | |
| I rock the African, the European, and Jap | |
| Beneath I got to show you that I am all that | |
| So I must, roc, the mic |
| zuò cí : Parker | |
| Adjust that treble right now adjust the bass | |
| Turn it up, stop frontin | |
| C' mon, turn it up | |
| Alright, check it out ninetythree lyrics, here we go | |
| Bo! | |
| I never want a jheri curl up under my hat | |
| The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black | |
| I never want money if my lyrics are wack | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| I play only the reggae and I play only rap | |
| I rock the African, the European, and Jap | |
| Beneath I got to show you that I am all that | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| Are you tired of lyrical liars, passing fliers | |
| Wannabe MC' s, but really good triers | |
| Tripping over mic cords, getting you bored | |
| A total fraud, this kind of thing I can' t afford, so I | |
| pick up the mic and kill it ill it top bill it | |
| The cough is a skillet, where MC' s get fried in it | |
| You got beef chill it, blood I spill it | |
| After seven long years of ripping the party and I' m still widdit | |
| You call my name I don' t think about suing ya | |
| I come to the club with that BOOYAKA | |
| Laughing while I' m doin ya the crowd is booin ya | |
| Gimme one month, record for record on tape I' ll ruin ya | |
| Some likkle awl pon sound bwoy wan fi rule de city | |
| His style is lookin pretty beats and rhymes are dibby dibby | |
| Here comes the rootical ratical teacha | |
| I' ll eat ya defeat ya beat ya till ya stagger and ya teeth chatter | |
| You' ll be goin through convulsions as I flash data | |
| Any rapper can be a decapitated rapper now what' s the matter | |
| You' re full of more junk than a sausage | |
| Let me show you what a real hiphop artist | |
| DJ Premier cuts and scratches " My posse from the Bronx is thick!" | |
| I never want a jheri curl up under my hat | |
| The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black | |
| I never want money if my lyrics are wack | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| I play only the reggae and I play only rap | |
| I rock the African, the European, and Jap | |
| Beneath I got to show you that I am all that | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| Of course yeah I' m the most brilliant recording artist in your life | |
| Never have to repeat a rhyme style twice, precise | |
| In a lyrical drought like water to your lips oh yes my lyrics will suffice | |
| I' m nice, like beans and rice, I am delicious | |
| Who' s the freshest lyricist on the mic, you don' t want to with Kris is | |
| Lyric for lyric rhyme for rhyme style for style I break you like dishes | |
| Either you come fully correct or the lyrics you simply makin wishes | |
| We got no time for fake black leaders and dreamers blowin wishes | |
| youse a fraud, I mean a fraud like in fraudulation | |
| I know what it is, the crown of rhyme supremacy you' re tastin | |
| And yes, before the flavor hits your greedy tongue | |
| You get ripped up by KRSOne | |
| Now, lyrics, somebody want lyrics, from the lyrical terrorist | |
| Here' s a little somethin for you all to remember Kris, and remember this | |
| I am no pessimist, more of an optimist | |
| Activist revolutionist, yes the hardest artist | |
| And the smartest, Premier, spark this | |
| Premier cuts and scratches " My posse from the Bronx is thick!" | |
| I never want a jheri curl up under my hat | |
| The woman in my bed has got to be strictly black | |
| I never want money if my lyrics are wack | |
| So I must, roc, the mic | |
| I play only the reggae and I play only rap | |
| I rock the African, the European, and Jap | |
| Beneath I got to show you that I am all that | |
| So I must, roc, the mic |
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