Lord Finesse
Lord Finesse & Doo Wop
Lord Finesse
Lord Finesse & O.C.
Lord Finesse & KRS-One & O.C.
Lord Finesse & MC Lyte
Lord Finesse & Marquee
Lord Finesse & Akinyele
Lord Finesse
Lord Finesse & Show
Lord Finesse & Andre the Giant & Marquee & Diamond D
Lord Finesse
Lord Finesse & Kid Capri
Lord Finesse
Lord Finesse & KRS-One
Lord Finesse & Grand Puba & Sadat X & Large Professor
[Intro: KRS-One]
Lord Finesse and Blastmaster KRS-One
Lyrical styles weigh a ton
Lord Finesse, we know you got skills
Come into the cypher and build
Chill out, all emcee I kill
Come down
[Verse 1: Lord Finesse]
Check it out, come on, here’s your chance to swing
With some ill motherfuckers, we don’t dance and sing
In ‘95 we’re out jingling
Serving Poetic Justice without that nigga John Singleton
I do my thing while the fans be jelling
Ayo, I’m so dope, you better tap your man and tell him
I don’t fake moves, I scrape crews, I make brothers break food
Just give me a beat with a bass groove
I’m mad funky, ask the experts
‘Cause I’ll make you bob your head until your motherfucking neck hurt
So don’t ask me to max, G
‘Cause if you ain’t real, I’m bringing it to your face like acne
Now rappers run scams and flim-flam
On how they be getting loose when they’re rusty like the Tin Man
They rap fast, trying to stack cash
But on the real-to-real, yo, they’re still sounding half-assed
Yelling and screaming like they got something
When they don’t got nothing, so them niggas need to stop fronting
Talking how they be ragging shit
When I don’t know if them niggas are rapping or talking motherfucking Arabic
They act so ill, ay, no frills, they should go chill
They all mouth with no skills
When I’m around, they all feel funny
‘Cause I’m young, making funds like Shaquille O’Neal, money
You want any drama? You better wear plenty armor
I’ll cut that ass like the chef at Benihana’s
The Funky Man’s in it to win it
We gotta keep it real, yo, no motherfucking gimmicks
[Hook: Lord Finesse]
Whoever make a hit, they the best (That’s a gimmick)
You sell records based on how you’re dressed (That’s a gimmick) Ayo that tongue-twisting shit, that’s kind of fresh (That’s a gimmick)
What’s when you’re soft but you’re fronting like you’re stressed? (That’s a gimmick)
What’s when you’re only into rap to get paid? (That’s a gimmick)
What’s when you’re yelling and screaming up on stage? (That’s a gimmick)
When your career is numbered by days? (That’s a gimmick)
What’s when your lyrical style is just a phase? (That’s a gimmick)
[Verse 2: KRS-One]
Yeah, check it out
A-yes, yes, y’all, to the beat, y’all
Bringing the street
Let me put my beeper on “vibrate” so we won’t hear it beep
Representing the street, concrete what I speak, yeah, I live it
Let it be known, KRS is not about a gimmick
I’ll grab the mic and rip it, meanwhile, they’re stalling
I’ll raise the mic stand because I’m tall and I keep the crowd crawling
I’m not like those other rappers talking about the caps they peel
Punk, I’ll battle emcees for real
Fuck a record deal when you’re still into hip hopping with your
Country ass
Sounding like you’re still picking cotton
You’ll get thrown across the room in that direction, listen
The lyrical Teacha’s not the one you should be checking
This is my eara or era or eara, whatever
I’m mad clever, I’ll Shoop, you’ll doop, you’ll doop like Salt-N-Pepa
Lyrical terror, you should never ever come for mine
When I rhyme, I clean up emcees with the fresh smell of pine
I got skills and it shows, you could slow or speed up the tempo
Your style is fake like Janet Jackson’s nose
I’m selling that real live shit, and you could get hurt
You’re selling that fake shit like the Home Shopping Network
You got a lot of rhymes to battle in a second
But frankly, the bottom line is: where’s your hit record?
You claim I’m jocking, you claim I’m on your dick, where’s your witness?
If I’m on your dick, my name has got to be syphilis
I come with lyrical, physical fitness
Two months from now, you will have bit this
Watch me light that ass up like Christmas
Don’t let me come out on that ass, start flipping
The lyrics I’ll be kicking be hotter than jerk chicken
So whether from The East or from The West, brothers know I’m KRS
I got force, I came to your town to set it off
So when Finesse goes “hit it,” I’ll never mimic
KRS-One could never use a gimmick
[Hook: Lord Finesse]
When you’re riding the next rapper’s dick (That’s a gimmick)
When you’re R&B and then you cold flip (That’s a gimmick)
Start rhyming hardcore just to get a hit (That’s a gimmick)
When you get over, but your skills ain’t shit (That’s a gimmick)
When you rap but you don’t have soul (That’s a gimmick)
When you cross over just to go gold (That’s a gimmick)
When you’re not a gangster but portraying a role (That’s a gimmick)
What’s when you’re shaped in somebody else’s mold? (That’s a gimmick)
[Verse 3: Lord Finesse]
Man your station, ‘cause the clan you’re facing
Is stepping to you trash motherfuckers like sanitation
I’ll shoot and throw rhymes, the whole nine
When it’s showtime (What up, kid?), brothers know I could hold mine
On the real, I got rhyme skills
When the time’s ill, I’m blowing up spots like a minefield
Brothers front with their chest out
But words from Finesse mouth’ll leave them niggas stressed out
They make me sick to my stomach
(So put it on ‘em, kid!) Them motherfuckers don’t want it
They can’t see me, believe me
They’re all phonies like them niggas that be wrestling on TV
Yo, they’re nowhere near pro
And niggas couldn’t hang if they was motherfucking scarecrows
Nowadays, a lot of rappers sound fake
Talking that Gangster shit when they’re softer than a pound cake
So why you fronting with the burner, kid?
When you done took more ass-whippings than fucking Tina Turner did
You wanna front? So be it
But fuck beating around the bush. I just speak how I see it
Me fall off? That shit’s dead
It’s not happening, kid, so get that shit through your thick head
I’ll never sellout (What?), you heard right
I’ll never cross over (Aight!), word life
So when I said it, peep the method
If I never go Gold but get credit, I won’t sweat it
In ‘95 we’re all in it
We gotta keep it real, yo, no motherfucking gimmicks
[Hook: Lord Finesse]
What’s when you rap but don’t appreciate the art? (That’s a gimmick)
What’s when you sell out just to get a start? (That’s a gimmick)
What’s when you make bullshit just for the charts? (That’s a gimmick)
What’s when you rap but it’s not from the heart? (That’s a gimmick)
What’s when you’re Hardcore, then you turn pop? (That’s a gimmick)
When you steal ideas to get props? (That’s a gimmick)
When you sell out to be on top? (That’s a gimmick)
What’s when you front like you’re hard but you’re not? (That’s a gimmick)
[Outro: KRS-One]
Now let this be a lesson to all MC's... and DJ’s
Anyone that come across the line will have to pay
Real hip hop is in effect
Real hip hop is in effect
Real hip hop is in effect
Give it respect, we catch wreck
No Gimmicks was written by KRS-One & Lord Finesse.
No Gimmicks was produced by Lord Finesse.
Lord Finesse released No Gimmicks on Tue Feb 20 1996.