D. Original - Jeru The Damaja

Verse One: 

Dirty rotten scoundrel  that's what I'm called  on the street 
Could connive and cheat but rarely get beat 
Ya see I'm streetwise  a con game pro 
Kickin the Bobby bullshit  too smart for Willie Bobo 
Not stressin five o  hot hand in celo 
Live in the land of crooks yes Brooklyn's the borough 
Homicide central  East New York 
Where the manic  depressive psycho murderers stalk 
Walk  like a ninja, on the asphalt 
Here talk is cheap, you're outlined in chalk 
And there's more hardtimes, than on Good Times 
And most niggaz dedicate their life to crime 
So I'm steady schemin, won't work for a dime 
Used to get, tax free loot, all the time 
Type slick can't fess on 'Ru, because 

Verse Two: 

Before trains were graffiti proof I used to get loose 
Dirty rotten since the days of the deuce 
Dirty, because of the skin I'm in 
The fact I have melanin automatically makes me a felon 
Even though I'm righteous, rotten's what you're yellin 
But I'm not chain-snatchin, or drug-sellin 
According to your books you said I would be damned like Ham 
Scoundrel opposite of the king that I am 
But wanna get funny, we can get bummy 
Take you to the East and back again money 
Filthy putrified trick, step past your sister 
Challenge the Damaja, and you'll be history 
Mortal Kombat fatality, the original don't sing no R&B 
Nasty MC deity 
Chop off domes with the poems that come out of my pin-eal 
gland, as I expand, you know who I am 

Verse Three: 

Father of all stylin, I be whylin on wax 
We hack shit up like big ax and little ax 
Don't need tokes to make you jump like bungee 
Tracks real