paroles de chanson Still Slippin' - KRS-One
(Feat.
Akbar,
An
Ion,
Illin'
P,
L
da
Headtoucha,
...)
[KRS-One:]
It
don't
stop,
word
It
don't
stop,
we
still
spittin!
Word
Knowledge
Reigns
Supreme,
Over
Nearly
Everyone
When
you
gon'
get
it?
Aww
man
Watch
how
I
spit
'em,
watch
how
I
hit
'em
Inebriated
rhythm,
we
get
up
all
in
'em
KRS
you
gotta
get
him,
we
the
best
we
always
win
'em
Them
cats
won't
admit
I'm
in
the
club
rippin
they
shit
I'm
raw
when
I'm
on
tour
you
better
be
sure
when
you
get
'em
'Til
you
hit
the
floor
and
spin
'em,
them
elements
do
you
live
'em?
Or
are
you
just
usin
'em,
confusin
'em
and
killin
them
Your
touring
is
boring,
your
minimum
ain't
fulfillin
them
So
let's
start
drillin
'em,
why
we
ain't
feelin
them
Cause
we
lookin
and
lookin
and
don't
see
that
real
in
them
Cars
we
be
wheelin
them,
minds
we
be
healin
them
With
books
and
CD's,
believe
me
we
straight
dealin
them
Live
in
the
club
them
thugs
hit
the
ceiling
When
they
get
the
feeling
KRS-One
start
delivering
So
who's
up?
(Akbar)
You
live
hip-hop?
Yo,
get
on
the
mic
and
show
'em
what
you
got
[Akbar:]
This
whole
rap
game
is
a
gamble,
some
MC's
can't
handle
Financial
freeze,
your
record
company's
at
a
standstill
While
I
breeze
through
a
sample,
and
lead
by
example
Find
fertile
minds
and
drop
seeds
by
the
handful
Man
you
ain't
gotta
hit
me
in
my
head
with
the
anvil
I
grow
wise,
I
recognize
the
lies
and
the
scandal
Once
you
sign
on
that
line,
your
career
could
depend
on
These
white
collar
crooks
who
cook
the
books
like
Enron
So
I
took
an
oath
to
speak
no
lie
While
mad
rappers
die
over
beef
like
E.
Coli
I
guess
you
thugs
won't
get
the
picture
until
them
slugs
hit
ya
I
ain't
a
hater,
but
sooner
or
later
"Love's
Gonna
Get
'Cha"
And
if
you
don't
know
that,
then
you
dumb
fella
And
everything
I
said,
went
right
over
your
head,
like
an
umbrella
So
who's
up?
(L)
You
live
hip-hop?
(Damn
right)
Yo,
get
on
the
mic
and
show
'em
what
you
got
[L
Da
Headtoucha:]
Categorize
me
with
the
best
clique,
rhyme
majestic
With
it
I
get
sick
and
mo'
connected
So
electric
my
energy
is
remembered
I'm
limitless
My
mind
screamin
just
against
the
rhythm,
intense
is
the
ism
In
'em
I
long
salute
the
young
and
hungry
to
shine
Nightmares
of
lost
time
haunt
taunt
me
to
rhyme
Been
isolated,
waitin
years
to
finally
reappear
Cheers
I
made
it,
all
praise
due,
Inebriated
These
words
are
weaponry,
huh,
mental
telepathy
Rocks
for
definite,
reppin
it,
'til
the
death
of
me
Pain
left
in
me
runs
deep,
and
leaks
through
the
speakers
In
Jeeps
and
tape
decks,
then
connects
to
your
peeps
We
keep
it,
thorough
borough
to
borough,
city
to
ghetto
Rock
like,
heavy
mental
on
the,
instrumental
So
who's
up?
(Illin')
You
live
hip-hop?
Get
on
the
mic
and
give
it
what
you
got
[Illin'
P:]
I
got
five
on
it,
you
want
it,
flaunt
it
without
hazzy
Dues
paid
check
the
rezzy,
the
black
film
be
That
of
a
blunt's
ash,
past
he
of
the
spectacular
cash
To
get
after
master
{?}
atlas
I
rep
even
when
I
be
fingerin
them,
get
it,
probably
not
Probably
thought
I
meant
that
snitch
talk
Starvin
your
brain,
I
never
come
with
the
simple
and
plain
To
get
at
these
thoughts,
get
on
the
train-er
I'ma
af'ta
learn
ya
bwoy,
ya
not
fi
come
wit
de
sum'n
Microphone
check
one,
no
frontin
You
niggaz
is
mimin
your
rhymes
cause
y'all
ain't
sayin
nuttin
Some
of
dem
soft,
me
foot
bak
I'm
'pon
de
mic
{?}
+Good
Will+
stay
+'untin+
Fear
new
day
mon,
un
if
ye
wake
up
Industry
feel
de
shake
up
Married
to
the
ghetto
you
niggaz
forget,
break
up
Ahh
so
who
live
hip-hop
Upon
de
hip,
me
ride
the
Soul
Train
ock
[Supastition:]
Yo
I'm
not
to
be
confused
with
these
popular
new
names
I
been
paid
my
dues
I'm
at
the
top
of
the
food
chain
And
I
should
get
an
award
for
slept
on
peeps
So
this
beat'll
be
perfect
for
my
acceptance
speech
Forever
loved
in
your
city,
thanks
to
rap
My
album's
a
continuous
seller
like
fitted
Yankee
caps
I'm
like
a
demon,
crossbred
with
a
ragin
bull
I'm
from
the
South
but
I
relate
more
to
"Paid
in
Full"
So
focused
on
my
grind,
I'm
potent
when
I
rhyme
Tell
niggaz
close
your
fuckin
mouth
and
open
up
your
mind
It
takes
more
than
a
few
weeks
to
learn
I
make
sure
rappers
and
microphones
ain't
on
speakin
terms
As
far
as
you
concerned,
I'm
losin
my
temper
and
patience
Nobody
takes
shit
serious
like
an
impotent
rapist
So
who's
up?
(An
Ion)
You
live
hip-hop?
(True
dat,
true
dat)
Yo,
get
on
the
mic
and
show
'em
what
you
got
[An
Ion:]
I'm
aggressive,
progressive,
words
young
ticker
be
vital
Rip
the
game
and
the
name
to
reclaim
any
taken
title
Directly
hand
out
stares
to
the
needle
as
it
rotates
An
agent
to
decrepit
from
rigormortis
in
flow
eighths
Not
even
for
a
minute
can
you
rap
Let
down
by
the
sound
that
drowns
the
clowns
even
dare
to
step
Don't
ride
the
rhythm,
I
order
you
to
jock
Your
claim
to
fame
was
holdin
down
but
you
can't
hold
cock
Damn
right
we
can
fight,
I
stay
with
grudge
With
no
prior
budge
from
the
previous
And
when
is
it
that
fourth'll
crack
cranium,
kids
come
in
the
picture
Knowin
that
asshole
and
Ion
and
you
ain't
the
perfect
mixture
Like
Alice,
diners
become
the
impeccable
haven
That
any
enter
my
zone
must
be
stripped
down
and
shaven
I
stand
before
you
as
a
fiendish
critter
Creatin
causin
collision
with
a
pen
Written
that
hatred
of
spaced-out
squashed
men
like
it
was
a
sin
The
only
job
payin
me
enough
to
snuff
the
rough
Should
have
never
planned
the
plan
to
make
you
perish
Leavin
your
fan
and
your
uncle
and
son
with
somethin
he
can
cherish
1 Bling Blung
2 The Way We Live
3 Woke Up
4 Fucked Up
5 I'm on the Mic
6 Life Interlude
7 Organ Break
8 I Am There
9 Still Slippin'
10 My Life
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