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My Philosophy

So, you're a philosopher? Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes I think very deeply, I think very deeply, I think very deeply I think, I think, I think very deeply, I think, I think very deeply Let's begin, what, where, why, or when Will all be explained like instructions to a game See I'm not insane, in fact, I'm kind of rational When I be asking you, "Who is more dramatical?" This one or that one, the white one or the black one Pick the punk, and I'll jump up to attack one KRS-One is just the guy to lead a crew Right up to your face and ditched you Everyone saw me on the last album cover Holding a pistol something far from a lover Beside my brother, S C O T T I just laughed, 'cause no one can defeat me This is lecture number two, 'My Philosophy' Number one, was 'Poetry' you know it's me This is my philosophy, many artists got to learn I'm not flammable, I don't burn So please stop burnin', and learn to earn respect 'Cause that's just what KR collects See, what do you expect when you rhyme like a soft punk You walk down the street and get jumped You got to have style, and learn to be original And everybody's gonna wanna diss you Like me, we stood up for the South Bronx And every sucka mc had a response You think we care? I know that they are on the tip My posse from the Bronx is thick and we're real live, we walk correctly A lot of suckas would like to forget me but they can't 'Cause like a champ, I have got a record of knocking out The frauds in a second on the mic, I believe that you should get loose I haven't come to tell you I got juice I just produce, create, innovate on a higher level I'll be back, but for now just seckle I'll play the nine and you play the target You all know my name so I guess I'll just start it Or should I say, start this, I am an artist Of new concepts at their hardest Yo, 'cause I'm a teacher, the Scott is a scholar It ain't about money 'cause we all make dollars That's why I walk with my head up When I hear wack rhymes I get fed up Rap is like a set-up, a lot of games A lot of suckas with colorful names I'm so-and-so, I'm this, I'm that Huh, but they all just wick-wick-wack I'm not white or red or black I'm brown from the Boogie Down Productions, of course our music be thumpin' Others say they're bad, but they're buggin' Let me tell you somethin' now about hip hop About D-Nice, Melodie, and Scott La Rock I'll get a pen, a pencil, a marker Mainly what I write is for the average New Yorker Some mc's be talkin' and talkin' Tryin' to show how black people are walkin' But I don't walk this way to portray Or reinforce stereotypes of today Like all my brothas eat chicken and watermelon Talk broken English and drug sellin' See I'm tellin', and teaching real facts The way some act in rap is kind of wack And it lacks creativity and intelligence But they don't care 'cause the company is sellin' it It's my philosophy, on the industry Don't bother dissin' me, or even wish that we'd Soften, dilute, or commercialize all the lyrics 'Cause it's about time one of y'all hear it And hear it first-hand from the intelligent brown man A vegetarian, no goat or ham Or chicken or Turkey or hamburger 'Cause to me that's suicide self-murder Let us get back to what we call hip hop And what it meant to DJ Scott La Rock How many mc's must get dissed Before somebody says, don't with Kris This is just one style, out of many Like a piggy bank, this is one penny My brother's name is Kenny, that's, Kenny Parker My other brother I.C.U. is much darker Boogie Down Productions is made up of teachers The lecture is conducted from the mic into the speaker Who gets weaker? The king or the teacher It's not about a salary it's all about reality Teachers teach and do the world good Kings just rule and most are never understood If you were to rule or govern a certain industry All inside this room right now would be in misery No one would get along nor sing a song 'Cause everyone'd be singing for the king, am I wrong? So yo, what's up, it's me again Scott La Rock, KRS, BDP again Many people had the nerve To think that we would end the trend We're criminal minded, an album which is only ten Funky, funky, funky, funky, funky hit records No more than four minutes and some seconds The competition checks and checks and keeps checkin' They take the album, take it home, and start sweatin' Why? well it's simple, to them it's kind of vital To take KRS-One's title To them I'm like an idol, some type of entity In everybody's rhyme they wanna mention me? Or rather mention us, me or Scott La Rock But they can get bust get robbed, get dropped I don't play around nor do I f around And you can tell by the bodies that are left around When some clown jumps up to get beat down Broken down to his very last compound See how it sounds? A little unrational A lot of mc's like to use the word dramatical Fresh for '88, you suckas

Date Added: 2008-03-25
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