My Philosophy Lyrics - A Retrospective - Krs One

Let's begin 

What where why or when 

Will all be explained 

Why destruction is a game 

See I'm not insane 

In fact I'm kind of rational 

When I be asking 

Yo who is more dramatical 

This one 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 dis you 

Everyone saw me on the last album cover 

Holding a pistol 

Something far from a lover 

Beside my brother 

S-see-O-T 

I just laughed 

'Cause no one can defeat me 

This selection number two 

Is "My Philosophy" 

Number one 

Was "Poetry" 

You know it's me 

It's 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 want to dis 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 have 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 

And Scot 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 their bad 

But they're buggin 

Let me tell you somethin' now 

About hip hop 

About D-Nice, Melodie, 

And Scot 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 

Eatin' chicken and watermelon 

Talk broken english and drug sellin' 

See I'm tellin' 

And teaching real facts 

Now when 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 our lyrics 

'Cause it's about time 

One of y'all 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 Scot La Rock 

How many Mc's must get dissed 

Before somebody says, "Don't fuck with Kris!" 

This is just one style 

Out of many 

Like a piggy bank 

This is one penny 

My brother's name is Kenny 

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 

Over a certain industry 

Fuck 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 

Scot La Rock, 

KRS, BDP again 

Many people had the nerve to think we would end the trend 

We're criminal minded 

And only tend 

Funky, funky, funky, funky, funky hit records 

No more than four minutes 

And some seconds 

The competition checks and checks 

And keeps checkin' 

They get 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 want to mention me? 

Or rather mention us 

Me or Scot La Rock 

But they can get bust 

Get robbed, get dropped 

I don't play around 

Nor do I fuck 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 sound? 

A little unrational 

A lot of MC's like to use the word 

Dramatical! 

Fresh for '88 

You suckas