As You Already Know (feat. Truck Turner, Big Punisher & Kool G Rap)

Fuck y'all niggas want, is it clout? Well you got it Bet this gun blast to your chest and leave your moms broken-hearted Don't get me started Come up against this, is you retarded? I ain't shit on you motherfuckers yet, I only farted Touch the dopest nigga from five Borough that's Kris, put him on my shit The hottest Latino rapper Big Pun, up on this fly shit G Rap the sole survivor with truck kills all the nonsense When Marley doing a track, it's big, I mean Jurassic Like coke this shit's a classic, from the cradle to the casket Gonna blow from Bangkok to Brooklyn, Beijing to the Boogie Down Then back to my block Cops follow the trail that lead back to me I wave 4 with two Glocks, blowing walls off like 2Pac Gold clutch, the holy cross Can't save you, still gonna be a holocaust Truk Turner, show no remorse Go ahead nigga, floss But don't be around when the sun go down I rob you, then gun you down The four-four make a thunder sound Rushing like, off the ground I'm a competent, don't turn around You see my face, I'ma blaze you, then let off another round And another round Take your family, put you underground I told you kid, I'll lay you down Spray you down, claim your town Bronx-bound, team player, don't play around Who am I? Truk Turner You're learning now No matter, where you from I'm the arsonist, I'll burn it down Wack rappers I humiliate like half a mic in The Source Blast you right off of the stage in a grave And put a butcher knife in your corpse What you writing is soft, I'm pro-hardcore Roll up on your small empire and spray your tires like Armor All Who wanna brawl with the Bronx finest? Talk your eyelids off and infect your thoughts like the monster virus HIV, I know you hate my stee Cause I'm the son of Tony, you phony like fake ID It's the S-H-I-T, you can smell it Gun smoke making you choke Take a toke and inhale it Now you can feel it, deep inside your lungs Like hot pellets from the shotty we supply the guns Now where you from, state your resting zone I'm from the BX, be long, that's where TS go home Where KRS was born Let it be known if I don't catch you, watch for our God Cause when you diss Kris, you disrespecting my squad We coming through with the fifth and Glocks Ripping shots and hitting blocks Leaving kids rocked, put in a hitting box Splitting tops, leave your face hot, dotted like chicken pox Clench the cops with bloodhounds sniffing socks, sticks and rocks No trace, get your clique robbed, your wig slugged, your shit plugged Catch a big mug, top us just like a chick with big jugs Up in the strip club, rivers of blood No cross, we blowtorch like auto mechanics You oughta panic We slaughter you bandits, your daughter be planted Inside the ground more than the granite My gunshots will make you orbit the planet Crucify evil people in a ball, legal or illegal The four-four is lethal Cop after gats, I'm popping wheelies like Knievel Fire shots to rent a Regal Leave all your peoples with palsy in they cerebrals Deadly as an addict's needle Let automatics reap you, sweep you I'm sending you to Lucifer to keep you, heat you Nail you to the cross on top a church steeple Red dots cover your face like the measles Next up, I believe that's me Bitch ass, here's a quick class I'm the blast master cause I blast and whip ass This will be over quick fast Keep mixing it, spitting it, bending it Did it like juice with gin in it, ha ha Jackpot, we winning it You talk that shit, but you really illiterate Reading shit like, heh heh heh, tuh tuh tuh tuh Sound out the word, connect the noun with the verb Sick with ver-ver-verb verb cause the battle's absurd Don't let these young kids go soup that ass up You'll get smashed up, you're gassed up, you put that ass up, really? I don't even see you in the new millennium I see you like on VH1 with Milli Vanilli and them Talking about what you used to have You're abusive dad, oh it's oh so sad Cause I'm just so so death defying, mesmerizing Every time you say you dope that's false advertising But it's not surprising, you lying You ain't no battle hog What you got, one demo against my twelve year catalog? Back up, this is the Bronx in the house Truk Turner, KRS, without a doubt