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letra de medley at the amas, 1993 - kris kross

[verse 1: mac daddy]
now i’m the type hip hopper that’s a show stopper
i break ’em off proper, unlike them other teeny boppers
that continue to say and say “you never, ever come my way!”
i’m waiting for that alphabet crew to make my day
so watch and chop and chop and drop ’em little punks quick
and teach ’em never to mess with this krossed out kid
but really though, you k!ll me, bro
pretending you one of them
mad ’cause i’m bad and we made 5 million people (jump!)

[verse 2: kris kross, jd, (jd & nabs), all]
(jump, jump)
you should know, you should know that, ah
kris kross will not be having anything today
as we stand herе totally krossed out
we commencе to make ya (jump, jump)
the mac dad’ll make ya (jump, jump)
the daddy mac’ll make ya (jump around and get stupid)
kris kross’ll make ya (jump, jump)
ayo, nabs, break ’em off, son!

[verse 3: kris kross, all, (jd), (jd & nabs)]
c’mon!
pump your fists like this! (lemme see ya)
pump your fists like this! (lemme see ya)
pump your fists like this! (lemme see ya)
pump your fists like this! (lemme see ya)
(warm it up, kris) i’m about to!
(warm it up, kris) ’cause that’s what i was born to do!
(warm it up, kris) i’m about to!
(warm it up, kris)
[verse 4: mac daddy, daddy mac, all]
so many times i heard you rhyme, but you can’t touch this
i’m kicking the type of flow that makes you say, “you’re too much
kris!”
so feel the fire of the one they call the mac dad
the fire’s what i pack and what i pack is real bad
i’d like to grab ahold of your soul and never let go
do the jump, do the hump, and say (ho!)
now that’s the state of mind i’m in, huh
with rhyme after rhyme i win

i’m the wrong brotha for suckas to be messing with
’cause when i put the mic in my hand, i start wrecking it
they call me the d-a-double-d-y-m-a-c
there ain’t anotha brotha bad as me
when i (let go) something from the (ghetto), word
a little brother kicking rhymes like you never ever heard
daddy of them all, shooting the gift like a gun
kris kross show ’em how it’s done

[chorus of 2 da beat ch’yall]

[verse 5: daddy mac]
ayo, here’s a real scoop, homie loc
dumb fools around my way gettin’ high off gunsmoke
and i ain’t talkin’ about the high like indo
the kinda high to make you call your kinfolks
and tell them “oh, johnny’s dead”
a fourteen-year-old kid put a nine to his head
all because he wanted that gear he was sporting
gimme that, while you’re at it, gimme them jordans
johnny tryin’ to jet, homie wasn’t hearing that
johnny tryin’ to run and got gatted in the back
now tell me what happens to the way things used to be?
’cause at this rate, there’ll be no future, g
when will all of y’all learn
that if you play with fire too long, you’re bound to get burned
this ain’t a small thing i’m addressin’
it’s a big thing, take it from the daddy as a lesson

[hook of it’s a shame]

[verse 6: mac daddy]
it’s a shame the way this thing goes down
how one’ll lay you down just to show he don’t play around
he goes to sleep with a head full of anger
and wakes up a full-energized gang banger
i’m talkin’ about a tisket, a tasket
not knowing next day, he’ll be laying in the casket
so what you think of that, son?
in the arcade, they playin’ the games ain’t fun
something like pac-man
same name, but the game as you put it in the sack and
running to the next board
and gat down the fools standing in the way of the door
there’s no board and no points
and in this game, this is what pac-man wants
the game, the ghosts are always blue
then you’ll slip up and they’ll smoke you

[hook of it’s a shame]

- kris kross

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