Songtexte: KRS One. Heartbeat.

Alright everybody move back from the ropes
If you don't move back
We're gonna turn this music off
And that's my word, move back

Word is bond let's get this shit goin'
Word up, it's the Funk Doc in the house
Say hell yeah, hell yeah
Say fuck yeah, fuck yeah

Word up, it's the Funk Doc Spock you don't stop
It's my man KRS you don't stop
It's the girl Angie you don't stop
With the hah haha ha haha hah

It's the Butter Pecan Rican speakin' deletin'
Other radio jocks that think they competin'
They pre-sweetened like candy, I'm hot like pepper
Big up to Sandy but my name is Angie

Martinez, what a true microphone fiend is
Steppin' up lovely with my, Adidas
Through your speakers, representin'
Boriquas and all hip-hop rhyme seekers

You may think I'm crazy right but I'm crazy hype
Slay this nice y'all, everytime Angie grab the mic
I jams it right tonight, not the hardest
But peep the style of this Puerto Rican Goddess

Aiyyo yo yo yo, stop the music
Aiyyo back up off the ropes, man, word up
Yo get from the off the ropes
Now aiyyo yo yo, KRS-One, come again the selector

It's been a long time but we made it, you waited
You gettin' frustrated 'cause these MC's in trainin'
Skills on the mic for a royalty save it
Pullin' down rap so that others can't make it

They can't fake it in front of KRS they naked
That same old MC trend I'm here to break it
The highly conceptional multidirectional
Hot in ninety-seven so I guess I'm flexible

Rap relieve stress so yes I guess it's medical
All your wreckin' and rapin' is still theoretical
Redman, you know you must understand
Redman, you know you gots to understand

Angie, rockin' with the one BDP
Representin' right now at Hit Factory

One two hah and you don't quit
It's Kris and Angie with the ultimate
One two hah and you don't quack
It's Funk Doc smoke weed and don't smoke crack

Hahaha, hah and you don't quit
Hoohahhahah and you don't quit
I rock jams like, Samsonites with mics
Stage two boomin' system and flood the lights

The lyrical, fo'-fo's lettin' off like suppose
Reggie Reg is rockin' on the radio
Hahh, huh, the ooh-child too chill
Caps peeled, Someone In My Bed like Dru Hill

Raise 'em up 'cause I feel my spot can't be touched
No time for the Pauline jack, hit the clutch
Shotgun what? It's the high exalted
Ruler of the Buddha, the cash make my pockets

Stick out like a tumor, for the consumers
I get busy with La Pluma, detonate the bomb
To make you hibernate sooner, certified lunatic
My click run deeper than Charlie Tuna

Kahunas, raw for the able key movers
All over the hood like them Crooked I coolers
Bang maneuvers, from Jerz to Vancouver
Back to the Bronx with heartbeats ample looped up

I Blastmast like Kris, funk abyss
Like a phone chauvenist with a Roley on the wrist
Sike, I can afford it, less I slaughtered
Three platinum niggaz and none of 'em prerecorded

KRS-One need to be runnin' for office
So Butter Pecan Rican tell them to get off his