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It's meant to be evidentlyWhen I rock so eloquentlyPut the beat on and let meKill another wack emceeCan't trust them, never test meI practice and studyBut I'm not in it for the moneyBut to me they look so funnyYou can't test the teacherThe teacher won't reach intactThrough the speaker you're weaker, now sit your ass in the backMy lyrical you hear it, you fear it, you can't get near itCause the spirit eat EricLetras de cancionesAnd Eric your rhymes is wackLike that, that, right backCheck it out!Check it like thisJust skills You know you gots to build just skills*A phone is dialed a man says hello and a woman starts speaking inSpanish*You know you gots to build just skills, uh come on get downJust skills You know we got to build just skills, come on get downYeah, uh come onI got that rip track, flip that, underground rapWhen I kick backMost of what I'm hearin be weakSo I speak through beats and the streets as I teachI impeach, through speech, each lyric leech I reachHave a seat in the lectureNothin can protect youHard is the textureOf the mic wreckin rock in your sectorBetter than ever remember I am no beginnerI like to shout out Eric SkinnerJust skills, you know we gots to build just skills, come on a get downJust skills, you know we gots to build just skills, come on a get downYo, we livin in a world of private jets and limousineThe fruit we eatin as we prepare tangerine to nectarineSee everybody livin in the same routineWe need the telephone, and yes, we need the fax machineYou listen to the sound, well I think you know it's meNow, let me educate you with my concious poetryMe want, me want, me want, me want, me want no wack rapMe want, me want, me want, me want, me want no wack rapMe love, me love, me love, me love, me love it when it's badSee if you wack rap you ought be steppin out the backSee emcees on the microphone forgettin that they blackSee hear them kick the lyrics that are holdin people backBut when you hear the teacher, KRS will find the trackYou bound to see the light, and you don't want return backSo listen very closely to the secret scientistI'm sending this one out to all my inner city kidsNow you supposed to be apostle what you have inside your headCan make you more reliable, it can make you feel deadNow listen very closely to the way I say this rhymeIt's the thing called the brain, and the thing called the mindBut I'm outta timeChorus (scratching on the word "can"):Can I tell them that I really never had a gun?No, you can't cause now you bouts to get done!Can I tell them that I really never had a gunNever had a gun, never had a gun?Can I tell them that I really never had a gun?No, you can't cause now you bouts to get done!Can I tell them that I really never had a gunNever had a gun, never had a gun?On the block you just yap a whole lotAbout the clothes that you gotYo, or the gold that you gotEverybody sees all the friends in your Benz, yo, it's fatBut they ain't gettin money like thatWord to my brother Kenny, jealous one envyThe rich are few, while the poor, manyBut you got gold cuffs and cars and stuffYou eatin well, but still in the ghetto you dwellYou know it's hot, so you make it known about your glockTo any perpetrator tryin to blow up your spotYou grab the microphone and talk a good rambleYou the hardcore outlaw, criminal, vandalBurnin emcees like a candle, but you frontinYou ain't got nothin, with your life you gambleOne day you gamble up snake eyesTalkin all that junk about you don't take dives, you take livesNobody on the block tries, cause you claim you got powerful tiesSo at the red light you arriveAnd to your surprise you get heffed up with just two steak knivesYou're terrified, they take your Benz, and what makes things worseYou ain't got gun the firstChorus From Letras Mania