I'M Still #1 (Extended Version)

People still taking rapping for a joke
A passing hope, or a phase with a rope
Sometimes I choke, and try to believe
When I get challenged by a million MCs
I try to tell them, we're all in this together
My album was raw because no one would ever
Think like I think and do what I do
I stole the show, and then I leave without a clue
What do you think makes up a KRS?
Concisive teaching or very clear speaking?
Ridiculous bass, aggravating treble
Rebel, renegade must stay paid
Not by financial aid, but a raid of hits
Causing me to take long trips
I'm the original teacher of this type of style
Rocking off-beat with a smile
Or a smirk or a chuckle, yes, I'm not up to
BDP posse, so I love to
Step in the jam and slam
I'm not Superman, because anybody can
Or should be able to rock off turntables
Grab the mic, plug it in, and begin
But here's where the problem starts: no heart
Because of that, a lot of groups fell apart
Rap is still an art, and no one's from the old school
'Cause rap is still a brand new tool
I say no one's from the old school 'cause rap on the whole
Isn't even twenty years old
Fifty years down the line, you can start this
'Cause we'll be the old school artists
And even in that time, I'll say a rhyme
A brand new style, ruthless and wild
Running around, spending money, having fun
'Cause even then, I'm still number one

Blastmaster KRS-One of course
Comes to express with style the lost
Ways of rhyming, old and new
Past and present, knock knock, who is it?
A brand new style, up, time to change
People talk about me when they see me on stage
Live in action, guaranteed raw
I hang with the rich and I work for the poor
Now tomorrow you can say you saw
KRS-One stomping once more
I play by ear, I love to steer
The Alfa Romeo from here to there
I grab the beer, but not in the ride
'Cause I'm not stupid, I don't drink and drive
I'm not a beginner, amateur, or a local
My album is selling because of my vocals
You know what you need to learn?
Old school artists don't always burn
You're just another rapper who's had his turn
Now it's my turn, and I am concerned
About idiots posing as kings
What are we here to rule? I thought we're 'posed to sing
And if we oughta sing, then let us begin to teach
Many of you are educated, open your mouth and speak
KRS-One is something like a total renegade
Except I don't steal, I rhyme to get paid
Airplanes flying, overseas people dying
Politicians lying, I'm trying
Not to escape, but hit the problem head-on
By bringing out the truth in a song
So BDP, short for Boogie Down Productions
Made a little noise 'cause the crew was saying something
People had the nerve to take P for a gangster
An ignorant one, something closer to a prankster
Doing petty crimes, going straight to penitentiary
But in the scale of crime, that's really elementary
This beat is now compelling me to explain in silence
Why my last jam was so violent
It's simple, BDP will teach reality
No beating around the bush, straight up, just like the P is free
So now you know, a poet's job is never done
But I'm never overworked 'cause I'm still number one

Kool Moe Dee, he's down with us
Eric B. and Rakim, they're down with us
Stetsasonic, they're down with us
Dana Dane, he's down with us
Sleeping Bag Records, they're down with us
My lawyer Jay, he's down with us
Jive-RCA is down with us
Making funky music is a must
I'm number one