B.Y.S.

Lyrics

[Verse 1] I'm like a sniper, rhymes'll strike ya when I'm rockin' Mad chicks be jockin' when the G-Starr's talkin' And that's because my word is bond I get much fan mail and I always respond So tell your hun to write me too Make sure she puts attention "Mr. Guru" Brothers know the flow is unique I got 100 wild styles in my black valise MC's wanna be me, so they keep askin' For me to teach 'em methods both slow and fast and Others wanna act as if they're better But they only got one style which ain't all that clever I'm cooler than wind, harder than cold steel I get the ladies with more than just sex appeal I'm mystic, psychic, scannin' all your thoughts I'll touch your soul, and make your brain feel caught When my rapture traps ya and makes you mine You'll submit to the gift and to the lyrical lines So suckers realize that the size is too large When I come through, I'm pullin' whole crews' cards I be reppin' correct and on the Gang Starr tip MC's who front — I'm gonna bust your shit! [Hook: DJ Premier scratching] Bust your shit! OK, party people... [Verse 2] I wonder do you love it enough? I'm steppin' rugged and tough, never to front or to bluff I got the fresh cut baldy Brothers call me Guru the man, yes, with all the J-A-Z-Z-Y type essence, street type lessons manifestin' The one who make the fly ladies feel pleasant Never forgettin' that to myself I'm true Do what you want to, but watch yourself though, duke I don't wanna hear all of that loud mouthin' And try to pull yours out when nothin' comes out, then You'll see why you can't compete with me The notorious Guru of the Gang, you see Starr stands for power, like I said before I'm like the doctor's cure, slicker than Roger Moore I slide up to a crab MC like this Tap 'em in the head with my mic like this I'll be revealin' that you're weak to the world if you wish And I insist that if you persist Then you'll get creamed, 'cause I'mma get real steamed So don't you try to flex and try to look all mean A-yo, check it — that's dead, that's it 'Cause all you phony-ass rappers — I'mma bust your shit! [Hook: DJ Premier scratching] Bust your shit! [Verse 3] Now, when you see me on the set, you know I may unleash a Lyric like a mad dog barkin' through the speaker Step off! Unless you wanna get torn up Your raps worn out, burned out, fucked up You lucked up, or maybe you lucked out 'Cause at the battle last time, you snuck out But now I'm rollin' over you full blast I'm here to let you know no longer will the bull last MC's tellin' lies and poppin' all those myths Keep on fakin' moves and I'ma...