Boogie Down Productions - My Philosophy Lyrics
Voice: so, youre a philosopher?Krs: yes, I think very deeply.[repeated and scratched][verse one]Lets begin, what, where, why, or whenWill all be explained like instructions to a gameSee Im not insane, in fact, Im kind of rationalWhen I be asking you, who is more dramatical?This one or that one, the white one or the black onePick the punk, and Ill jump up to attack oneKrs-one is just the guy to lead a crewRight up to your face and dis youEveryone saw me on the last album coverHolding a pistol something far from a loverBeside my brother, s-c-o-t-tI just laughed, cause no one can defeat meThis is lecture number two, my philosophyNumber one, was poetry you know its meThis is my philosophy, many artists got to learnIm not flammable, I dont burnSo please stop burnin, and learn to earn respectcause thats just what kr collectsSee, what do you expect when you rhyme like a soft punkYou walk down the street and get jumpedYou got to have style, and learn to be originalAnd everybodys gonna wanna diss youLike me, we stood up for the south bronxAnd every sucka mc had a responseYou think we care? I know that they are on the tipMy posse from the bronx is thickAnd were real live, we walk correctlyA lot of suckas would like to forget meBut they cant, cause like a champI have got a record of knocking out the frauds in a secondOn the mic, I believe that you should get looseI havent come to tell you I have juiceI just produce, create, innovate on a higher levelIll be back, but for now just seckle![verse two]Ill play the nine and you play the targetYou all know my name so I guess Ill just start itOr should I say, start this, I am an artistOf new concepts at their hardestCause, yo, Im a teacher and scott is a scholarIt aint about money cause we all make dollarsThats why i walk with my head upWhen I hear wack rhymes I get fed upRap is like a set-up, a lot of gamesA lot of suckas with colorful namesIm so-and-so, Im this, Im thatHuh, but they all just wick-wick-wackIm not white or red or blackIm brown.. from the boogie downProductions, of course our music be thumpinOthers say their bad, but theyre bugginLet me tell you somethin now about hip hopAbout d-nice, melodie, and scott la rockIll get a pen, a pencil, a markerMainly what I write is for the average new yorkerSome mcs be talkin and talkinTryin to show how black people are walkinBut I dont walk this way to portrayOr reinforce stereotypes of todayLike all my brothas eat chicken and watermelonTalk broken english and drug sellinSee Im tellin, and teaching real factsThe way some act in rap is kind of wackAnd it lacks creativity and intelligenceBut they dont care cause the company is sellin itIts my philosophy, on the industryDont bother dissin me, or even wish that wedSoften, dilute, or commercialize all our lyricsCause its about time one of yall hear itAnd hear it first-hand from the intelligent brown manA vegetarian, no goat or hamOr chicken or turkey or hamburgercause to me thats suicide self-murderLet us get back to what we call hip hopAnd what it meant to dj scott la rock...[verse three]How many mcs must get dissedBefore somebody says, dont f*** with kris!This is just one style, out of manyLike a piggy bank, this is one pennyMy brothers name is kenny - thats, kenny parkerMy other brother i.c.u. is much darkerBoogie down productions is made up of teachersThe lecture is conducted from the mic into the speakerWho gets weaker? the king or the teacherIts not about a salary its all about realityTeachers teach and do the world goodKings just rule and most are never understoodIf you were to rule or govern a certain industryAll inside this room right now would be in miseryNo one would get along nor sing a songcause everyoned be singing for the king, am I wrong? !So yo, whats up, its me againScott la rock, krs, bdp againMany people had the nerve to think we would end the trendWere criminal minded, an album which is only tenFunky, funky, funky, funky, funky hit recordsNo more than four minutes and some secondsThe competition checks and checks and keeps checkinThey buy the album, take it home, and start sweatinWhy? well its simple, to them its kind of vitalTo take krs-ones titleTo them Im like an idol, some type of entityIn everybodys rhyme they wanna mention me?Or rather mention us, me or scott la rockBut they can get bust get robbed, get droppedI dont play around nor do I f*** aroundAnd you can tell by the bodies that are left aroundWhen some clown jumps up to get beat downBroken down to his very last compoundSee how it sounds? a little unrationalA lot of mcs like to use the word dramatical!Fresh for 88, you suckas...
