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