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KRS-One Ya Feel Dat Here are the song lyrics for Ya Feel Dat by KRS-One. For more excellent KRS-One lyrics, run a search! Typed by: dj.flash@pobox.com [Chorus] Ya feel dat? (HO!) Ya see dat? (HO!) Ya hear dat? (HO!) You believe dat? (HO!) Ya follow dat? (HO!) Could it be dat? (HO!) Ya follow dat? (HO!) Can you believe dat? (HO!) Ya hear dat? (HO!) Ya see dat? (HO!) You believe dat? (HO!) You can feel dat (HO!) Ya follow dat? (HO!) You believe dat? (HO!) Ya see dat? (HO!) [Verse One] Show me an MC that think he's too hot Bring him to KRS-One, I'll show him he's NOT Blowin the whole spot up when I spit up Knowledge Reigns Supreme, when I walk past, get up My wrists ain't lit up! I don't even live that life Gold, diamonds, platinum, I give to my wife - you see Diamonds are a girl's best friend, not mine You got it, FINE - but what about that rhyme? Can you rhyme? Can you spit it quick like watermelon pits at a picnic? Ha! Or are you just dressed up with nowhere to go? Or is the record company the pimp and you the ho? LET'S GO! [Chorus] w/ variations [Verse Two] I write my own books like I write my own hooks Step in the spot and these rappers be so shook They don't look here cause KRS is BOOM! Platinum rappers be hidin out in they dressin rooms Yo, get away from me You got a million dollar video but I'M the one they wanna see The capital E-M-C-E-E A repitition of words, I been divorced Melodie I'm out, confident, no doubt I get what I gotta get when I spit I don't shout This New Yorker, Kris Parker's a quick talker You can get what I spit or get the klik-klocker Overseas I got the breeze as a hip-hopper Where they speak eat and drop the beats proper Street doctor, I'm +Brown+ and +Foxy+ like the +Ill Nana+ Whoever you think is hot, I'm hotter [Chorus] w/ variations [Verse Three] RADIO! These suckers never play me or Chuck - but do you think we really give a... Southside, Westside, Eastside, North I spit the hot flame, you get your flesh torn off I come from that place where you cats can't face Where cops can't chase or invade my space We turn up the bass, you tremble in the place Phones ain't traced and flows we don't waste Hoes we don't chase or kiss, they know they place with Kris or Christ, they'll lose their life You don't lose if you come in two's, you and a wife But you crews wanna be bruised, so choose your knife Choose your gat, choose your rat, when the smoke clears you'll be like, "God damn - who was that?" Loosen that noose around your neck and back Embarassin blacks, ain't no respect in that! [Chorus] w/ variations [KRS-One] Let's do it! (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) Everybody up top! (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) Yo, all my cats in the front! (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) Yo, yo, all my cats in the back (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) (HO!) Yo, we out!
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