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-C-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 wanna 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   Verse two   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   Verse three   How many mc's must get dissed   Before somebody says, 'Don't f*** 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   **** 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 wanna 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 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 sound?   A little unrational   A lot of mc's like to use the word   DRAMATICAL   Fresh for '88   You suckas