Yo Kenny Parker up! (Whooooooooooo) KRS in the Yo these all talkin' about They run this, run that Motherfucker's don't run KRS-one in piece Ya'll battle? go!
I tote gunz, I make runs (Don't it) I tote gunz, I make number (Don't forget) I tote gunz, I make number (Let's take cats back) I tote gunz, I make number I tote gunz, I make runs (What think) I tote gunz, I make number (Huh) I tote gunz, I number runs (Let's these cats Kenny)
They some hoes, watch they say There's pictures of asses with price tags on Ebay Deja vu the must be havin' glitches I could have I just smashed these short bitches You to look up to me 'Cause right now all ya'll rhymin' where my dick is You lost, you can't believe club is like Iraq you the U.S. you need to leave Battle Kris? I'll blaze two guns Have yo ass like Saddam's two sons This that real shit You look like some kid that got gassed watchin' 8 Mile Now up your pride neo How'd I you? Did it have anything to do with the mic I through? No, but if you get far think you pussy you are why
I tote gunz, I make number (That's right) I tote gunz, I make number (Don't it) I tote gunz, I make runs (New York) I tote gunz, I number runs (That's real) I tote gunz, I make number (New York) I gunz, I make number runs (Huh) I tote gunz, I make number (Yeah, in you forgot) I tote gunz, I make runs
out, shoot out Everybody up You doubt, you KRS, now you fucked out, Poop out Through your and your gut Waive the Glock in your boy face what You talk that junk, but you really all smash you and your man Com'on up That's why I got to double So I could buck buck buck you up You a fan of rap I'm the man of rap I'm lookin' for where hip next land is at You gettin' in my Where cannon's at First thing you get hit with is a panic Then you the steel Of the gat to back Now you wonderin' why you said all that You could've left way in the back With his conscious raps and his old tracks But
I gunz, I make number runs (Huh Huh) I tote gunz, I make number (Huh Huh) I gunz, I make number runs (That's right) I tote gunz, I number runs (What, forgot?) I tote gunz, I make runs (What, you forgot?) I tote gunz, I number runs (ooooh) I gunz, I make number runs I tote gunz, I number runs
See, I'm the same guy that spit out "You Learn" And "Spiritual Minded", but ya'll are not You take shots at me, and disrespect Tryin' to degrade my
Beat begins to fade
But nope, crazy I'll watch your ooze out like cracked jars of turkey gravy God me to slay thee And get to it No ifs buts or maybes