back in '84 Jay, Run, D, Macs rock knockin' at your door I'm the king Alright, never let ya down Of rock In the end it's just a rock song I'm the king
Jump... Dee... Jay... Run... DMC... Yeah...! What...? Who...? King...of...Rock...! I want to rock right now DJ Run, and I'm claiming my crown
say I'm whack, now if that's right I'm the freshest whack MC that you ever heard, in your lifetime My slick accapella sounds clever with the beats Boy I'm
't see me I'm up in D.C. with strike number three Clownin, made a little stock to get a little cock Now I got niggaz bangin and lootin rock I'm going
I'm D-M-C like Run Listen mami I'm the muthafucking one I done put two sticks in my bun So they recognize me when I come I'm D-M-C like Run Listen mami
(Bring the fire along, c'mon) We still here (Bring the fire along, c'mon) It's star time (Bad Boy, M.O.P., Busta Rhymes) Motherfuckers Yeah, c'mon [
what I am sayin' To all those other emcees that be tryin' to get the info Forget the rest 'cause I'm the best, and I'm a nympho- Maniac, insaniac, I'
wrong, most fellas do rock They put their hands in the air, they take the show to the top They start rockin' with the ladies once the show begins They
8) (verse two) So shut up motherfuckers as I laid the ink When I'm in Detroit,niggers fight in mink When I'm in Chicago,motherfuckers get buck wild When I'm
fuck with us Aaw I'm the one Man I'm money, hoes, clothes and shows To do with your ho all wrapped in one I'm not done Man, I'm the shit after it's
layin on [Hook] [C-Bone] Dope boys in the trap like to stack the dough When beef come areound can't let it go When my funds turn legit i'm gonna
my Benz and my Coupe Like Jay and Run and D.M.C.'s, that's the name of my group (now speed it up) Beat to the rhythm of the rhyme I'm givin up a dime,
a nigga to die, I'm a gangsta No mo' petty rock hustlin', I'm in for the run And I'm fo'sho I'm gone' be murdered for this shit that I done But I'm
I'm comin' from a school Where if ah nigga mouth get out we aim tah hit at you Method subliminal I'm The Original That bullshit I heard on your disc was pitiful I'm
I'm cool like a A/C The nickel back sole in the park they paid me The PJ's get shot up they blame me Ya bitch wanna real nigga, she gon' page me I'm the
type of tic I'm a hold up traffic to touch her ass type of tic Lunatic, that's what I am that's what I said I am I'm try'n to be a millionaire I bet
but Arbor and Gail I mean Sprinkle Me homey 'cause I'm 'bout dollars and cents And if you ain't hauling dollars, well, you ain't holler In FlintI'd rather
I remember how it all began I used to sing dirty raps to my East side fans Back then I knew you couldn't stop this rap No M.C. could rock like that Then
