No Wack DJs - KRS-One

Me-don't-wan'-me-don't-wan'-me-don't-wan'-me-don't-wan' no whack deejay-uh

Me-don't-wan'-me-don't-wan'-me-don't-wan'-me-don't-wan' no whack deejay-uh

Me don’t like what they play, me don’t like what they say

Me-don't-wan'-me-don't-wan'-me-don't-wan'-me-don't-wan' no whack deejay-uh

New flow, new style, comin in BOOM BAP

Who now wanna throw down, the crew’s wild

One flow — you go, two flows — you outta here

We pros, three flows, buck through your outer gear

Let’s raise the fahrenheit on these DJ’s we don’t like

You know who I’m talkin about, yo they might come on tonight

They never hype, never tight, that’s not polite

Am I lyin?

No you’re quit right

So tonight, I be statin facts, most DJ’s are whack

They be holdin back, they NBA — Never Broke a Act

Yo I’m hopin that, new DJ’s open rap, bring the focus back

And take the crates from these fakes to the lake and throw 'em OVER that

We lead 'em to freedom or poetically beat 'em up

In conventions like meet 'em, see them, we plan to eat 'em up

I’m bein MC’in seein and agreein that this here cut

DEFINITELY will hit them up, so we sing

I SCREAM on these rappers like directors do actors

Hang with computer hackers on farms and ride tractors

Thug spelled backwards is GUT, drop the H

If you ain’t got guts and you callin yourself a thug, you a fake!

Not just the guts to bust off 44 calibre

Cause mad thugs turn bitch when you show that ass algebra

It’s like… the vexed look, the sex look

The checks look, cause brothers be, scared of that textbook!

You best look elsewhere, knowledge of self here

Never no welfare, echinicea for health care

Outrappin 'em, slappin 'em, ghetto scholar like Pun, Joey Crack and them

On spraypaint we put fat caps on 'em (WORD)

Up in the yard, we go to hittin it harder

Then return to reprieve as mild-mannered Kris Parker

The exec, signin on checks, approvin budgets

But if you want it, meet me at any club, we can THUG IT

N.O.R.E.

goes «WHAT WHAT,» Cube goes «YEH-YEAH!»

Jamaicans go «BUCK BUCK,» MC Eiht goes «GYEAH~!»

Master P goes «UNGHHH,» Busta RHymes goes «YAH YAH»

KRS-One goes «WOOP WOOP» like cop cars

Cause I pull over pop stars and arrest they guitars

And sentence them to the turntables, cuttin on 8 bars

Shakin 'em up, rippin 'em down, brother whattup?

Gimme a pound

You diggin the sound I’m bringin around, shakin the ground, never a clown

You know that you buggin, but you also know that you love it

Somethin new and bumpin others be frontin

They can’t even think about, new flows and techniques

They speak when the check speaks but KRS-One is direct heat

with ad libs

YES!!!