DJ Skribble Follow

[Mad Lion]
Oai oai ...
Why dont the DJ doesnt he play ..?
I know i know i know identic place
A really man ..?
..?
You want music, everybody scream louder!
This .. ?

[Doug E. Fresh]
On and on and on and on...
Yo
Freestyle flow to make the crowd just know
The old to the new, the new to the old
*Beatboxing* the rhythm be workin up on me
The crowd be jumpin up on me, the people are waiting up on me
To enter the stage in the rage Mad Lion's out the cage
Now it's time for me to engage, uhh
And bear witness, the lyrical fitness
The jumps, the dives, the leaps are you gettin this?
Next to step up, microphone checka
KRS-ONE, so come and get your wreck up!

Yo Chris, bust dat ass

[KRS-ONE]
I remember who art in Heaven number seven is the weapon
with the Goddess I'm steppin lyrically I'm never better, ya'know
I'm the difference between indo and oregano
Imagine how I fresh I am now, made these lyrics up a year ago
So report back you was phat, fit, all that quick ?
?, I'm lyrically physically fit
Catch me buggin on the mic every day and every night
Every hour, every second, minute, don't stop
get it, get it, yes, admit it when I'm way up in it
You can't hide cuz my radar's goin BLIP BLIP BLIP
I reside in the watchtower watchin MC's land
Your career will be as short as my part in 'Who's The Man'
Goddamn I'm the pinnacle, yes the metaphysical
Come to you as the rap god of lyrical syllable
Fall to your knees, bring fruit, ask advice
put your rhymes on the alter, burn 'em as a sacrifice
The aroma reaches up to my nostril
I get hostile, your lyrics are stiff like David Koppel
Yes Premier rocks the track on time
KRS-ONE with a off the top of the head rhyme
Yeah Fat Joe, you know you got a flow
My man Doug E. Fresh down with the one called KRS
We got the Mad MC's up in the D&D
I'm out, G...

1,2

[Fat Joe]
Yeah!
Motherfuckers know who's the best
if it ain't Fat Joe then it must be Lord Finesse
Think not, then show what you got
But don't grab this mic, the shit's too hot
I'm the born killa, nigga from the Bronx
Rappers talk shit but there's really no talk
Bring it on if you think you can hang
And if not then let me do my thing!
Yeah, so Smif-n-Wessun if you're down with me
Represent one time on the M-I-C...

Smif-n-Wessun in the joint one time

[Smif-n-Wessun]
Mr. Ripper get ya gear and prepare for war
Mr. Fixta, you don't gotta tell me no more
Cause what I see, on the daily deals with reality,
So come follow we on this journey
To Brooklyn where the crooks dwell
and the projects overlookin'
In the form of the streets, you know 'em well
Bet your ass this grass is greener
Than a twenty sack of sensimilla
Straight from Medina
You know the vibe, when Smif-n-Wessun twist up the thai
You see my people in the field and my head's in the 'Stuy
We do or die, to test ya stamina
So any challenger, we pass the mothafucka off to the Damaja

Dirty, dirty, dirty

[Jeru the Damaja]
Super scientifical madness,
My status is the baddest every time I bless the apparatus
You wish to take me out so ya study
Meanwhile my clothes, mics, and foes are left bloody
Cruddy; filthy from the ground on up,
When I plan my attack, I doubt that you're ready
Rain on competition like razor-sharp confetti
Kung-fu techniques from the perverted monastery
See fu-ru manipulates the microphone
While rhymes, like bullets, penetrate ya zones
We bring more drama than Kevin Costner
No I'm not Jamaican, but yes, I'm a Rasta

Yo we out, D&D All-Stars ya know what I'm sayin?
We about to make like a bad check and bounce as my man Mr. Dave would say
We keep it movin, Peace