"History" lyrics
(feat. Big Daddy Kane, Doug E. Fresh, KRS-One)
Uh, uh, uh
Someone say, "Who that cat running through that?"
Ask how he do that? Easy
"Who that cat running through that?"
Ask how he do that? Easy
Uh, yo what's up y'all? This is Doug E. Fresh
And I got my boy Big Daddy Kane and KRS-One is in here
And Game (yeah) Matter fact Game, you know what? (Yeah)
Razor sharp, my flow is like a Crip and Blood fighting in the park
Come to Compton swim with the sharks
I know the real kings of New York
That make me five borough thorough, pass me the torch
A young Kane, I'm insane, my membrane
Has the capacity to jack rappers and take chains
A lot of fake KRS', a lot of fake Games
I'ma cash in on you niggas and make change
Little-ass dogs I'm a Great Dane
Product of hip-hop like spray paint on a freight train
And while you niggas tried to make 'caine
I made 'caine with Kane playing, on that little tape thang
I got my first boom box in '85
Carrying that heavy motherfucker, I was maybe five
Or maybe six, so what I'm trying to tell you
Is I've been fuckin' with hip-hop since the 80s, bitch!
KRS-One spits like
Doug Fresh beat box like R-R-RAH!
And you know that Kane spit like
And that's the reason Game spit like
KRS-One spits like
Doug Fresh beat box like R-R-RAH!
And you know that Kane spit like
And that's the reason Game spit like
Rappers don't like when KRS on tour
'Cause when I rhyme their wrist don't glist' no more
All you see is that Darfur
And these rappers promoting all this rape and war
I'm ignorant when I'm on tour
They say I'm down to earth 'cause I put rappers' brains on the floor
You heard that song, "Chicken Noodle Soup"?
That's what your head gon' look like in the back of your coupe
Like someone threw up in your rear-view
After you battle KRS-One no one's ever gonna wanna hear you!
Notice the style of music you loose it
I'll scald your face like them cats in Houston
You know it's funny how y'all love to talk
But still stuck in the hood, I rose above New York
I be in the Bronx eating pounds of kush
You're like a faggot in front of the pussy, beating around the bush
KRS-One spits like
Doug Fresh beat box like R-R-RAH!
And you know that Kane spit like
And that's the reason Game spit like
Ay yo, you ain't got no other choice but to like it or love it
When you see me with The Game, it's nothing like Michael Douglass
The black Cosa Nostra, he who got the most-a
The toxic flows and y'all lames is not supposed to
I spit it clearly, my styles, the shit'll vary
When I write about cats, it's called obituaries
I never fuck with lames, so don't bring that nigga near me
I'm universal, your deafest jam is a subsidiary
One question player: who wan' see
The realest of the real to spit it, two blunt leaf
I locked down the East and opened new country
And ran through the West when it was mostly 213
Lookum, I took one to Brook-nam?
I look calm but I gotta enough hoods to start a crook farm
The god is in the building, and yes problems
When y'all buy chicks, all I do is test drive 'em
KRS-One spits like
Doug Fresh beat box like R-R-RAH!
And you know that Kane spit like
And that's the reason Game spit like
Uh, now let me tell y'all something
See this whole thing came together in a special way, ya know what I mean?
A very very special way
You just got the legends man, together
And you just created, a whole 'nother level
'Cause on the real, Game straight up talk
From an MC perspective, B
You are definitely... official, a legend, and respected
Because you come from the heart
And that's what a real MC do, no matter what
And this was all just one night in the studio, man, just hanging out
That's what we did, that's what happened
And you know. R-r-rah! R-r-rah! R-r-rah!
This is real, man!
This is all day!
This is hip-hop!
'Til the very last drop, uh!
And y'know, let me tell you the last thing
I'ma tell ya: it's about original creation from the heart
See, a MC knows without ever... trying to be somebody else
Just do yo' thing and it'll always work out
Do that, easy
All right Game, that's it man
Someone say, "Who that cat running through that?"
Ask how he do that? Easy
"Who that cat running through that?"
Ask how he do that? Easy
Uh, yo what's up y'all? This is Doug E. Fresh
And I got my boy Big Daddy Kane and KRS-One is in here
And Game (yeah) Matter fact Game, you know what? (Yeah)
Razor sharp, my flow is like a Crip and Blood fighting in the park
Come to Compton swim with the sharks
I know the real kings of New York
That make me five borough thorough, pass me the torch
A young Kane, I'm insane, my membrane
Has the capacity to jack rappers and take chains
A lot of fake KRS', a lot of fake Games
I'ma cash in on you niggas and make change
Little-ass dogs I'm a Great Dane
Product of hip-hop like spray paint on a freight train
And while you niggas tried to make 'caine
I made 'caine with Kane playing, on that little tape thang
I got my first boom box in '85
Carrying that heavy motherfucker, I was maybe five
Or maybe six, so what I'm trying to tell you
Is I've been fuckin' with hip-hop since the 80s, bitch!
KRS-One spits like
Doug Fresh beat box like R-R-RAH!
And you know that Kane spit like
And that's the reason Game spit like
KRS-One spits like
Doug Fresh beat box like R-R-RAH!
And you know that Kane spit like
And that's the reason Game spit like
Rappers don't like when KRS on tour
'Cause when I rhyme their wrist don't glist' no more
All you see is that Darfur
And these rappers promoting all this rape and war
I'm ignorant when I'm on tour
They say I'm down to earth 'cause I put rappers' brains on the floor
You heard that song, "Chicken Noodle Soup"?
That's what your head gon' look like in the back of your coupe
Like someone threw up in your rear-view
After you battle KRS-One no one's ever gonna wanna hear you!
Notice the style of music you loose it
I'll scald your face like them cats in Houston
You know it's funny how y'all love to talk
But still stuck in the hood, I rose above New York
I be in the Bronx eating pounds of kush
You're like a faggot in front of the pussy, beating around the bush
KRS-One spits like
Doug Fresh beat box like R-R-RAH!
And you know that Kane spit like
And that's the reason Game spit like
Ay yo, you ain't got no other choice but to like it or love it
When you see me with The Game, it's nothing like Michael Douglass
The black Cosa Nostra, he who got the most-a
The toxic flows and y'all lames is not supposed to
I spit it clearly, my styles, the shit'll vary
When I write about cats, it's called obituaries
I never fuck with lames, so don't bring that nigga near me
I'm universal, your deafest jam is a subsidiary
One question player: who wan' see
The realest of the real to spit it, two blunt leaf
I locked down the East and opened new country
And ran through the West when it was mostly 213
Lookum, I took one to Brook-nam?
I look calm but I gotta enough hoods to start a crook farm
The god is in the building, and yes problems
When y'all buy chicks, all I do is test drive 'em
KRS-One spits like
Doug Fresh beat box like R-R-RAH!
And you know that Kane spit like
And that's the reason Game spit like
Uh, now let me tell y'all something
See this whole thing came together in a special way, ya know what I mean?
A very very special way
You just got the legends man, together
And you just created, a whole 'nother level
'Cause on the real, Game straight up talk
From an MC perspective, B
You are definitely... official, a legend, and respected
Because you come from the heart
And that's what a real MC do, no matter what
And this was all just one night in the studio, man, just hanging out
That's what we did, that's what happened
And you know. R-r-rah! R-r-rah! R-r-rah!
This is real, man!
This is all day!
This is hip-hop!
'Til the very last drop, uh!
And y'know, let me tell you the last thing
I'ma tell ya: it's about original creation from the heart
See, a MC knows without ever... trying to be somebody else
Just do yo' thing and it'll always work out
Do that, easy
All right Game, that's it man
