A Crate of BDP

歌詞

Aiyyo aiyyo Kris they know the rules Yeah ya don't stop, say what? A ya don't stop, BDP in the house A ya don't stop, check it out check it out Yo D Yo bust it yo yo Kris hold on Let me give a shout out to some people aight bust it A Scott LaRock and ya don't stop A Sammy B and ya don't stop A Mister Cee and ya don't stop A Cool V and ya don't stop Evil E, and ya don't stop A Easylee, and ya don't stop A DJ Scratch, and ya don't stop A Spinderella, and ya don't stop Jam Master Jay, and ya don't stop A PA Mase, and ya don't stop So yo Kris, my mellow my man yo Get on the mic and do the best you can Well, the teacher comes to you, in effect From a different style, a whole different sect I inject, force and intellect When I hit the mic, suckers hit the deck I come correct and practice what I preach I don't pimp you or rule you I teach Come through the doors and slap up whores Ordering them to put back on their drawers 'Cause, I run their pimp When I leave he leaves with a limp Shrimp, I got the tartar sauce Never underestimate the power of the force Of the intellectual KRS-One I don't think yet my job is done, because I stand alone while others have to verify Just why they are thought to be fly Makin' the public believe that they are way up in the sky Sort of like a rap super guy But I, horrify and terrify the super duper rap guy Because you're soft as a lullaby While they sit on their throne lookin' Well I'm walkin' in the streets of Brooklyn Or Harlem and Queens and Bronx I'm even out there walkin' in Compton 'Cause everywhere BDP is schoolin' So anywhere, KRS is coolin' I'm not foolin', 'cause no, I'm not a fool Don't act stupid boy, you know the rules Word, aiyyo Kris, they act like they don't know the rules But yo, I tell you what Yo get on the mic and tell em what makes up KRS-One YaknowhatI'msayin'? Huh, and ya don't stop Yo, from off the sidewalk I grab the mic and talk Born nineteen-sixty-five in the state of New York My name is Kris Parker, KRS-One for short I slap up crews and rock parties for sport Lived on the streets about eight years straight There I got my education and learned to debate So when I pick up the microphone I know what I'm sayin' Education doesn't come from simply obeyin' The curriculum, of the school criteria In fact what I learned I found inferior I'm not a Muslim but I do support them My father in heaven taught me and taught them I'm not a Christian, but I won't diss 'em I'm not a Jew, I don't practice Judaism I'm not a Buddhist, but Buddha's a master I don't eat beef pork nor Diet Shasta Reason for this is very simple indeed When it comes to music everybody's in need You got wealthy artists spendin' money loosely You ask about the culture, they talk 'bout Gucci Metaphysics, the science of life And how to live, free from strife Walk with ease, and no disease Understand that I am the breeze And the trees, oceans and seas And the B and the D and the P's Suckers try it, but I don't buy it When I speak you seek to stay quiet Shut up! What what? You better stay cool And heed the warning boy, you know the rules Ah one two yeah, and ya don't stop Ah three four, say what and ya don't stop Ah five six pop pop and ya don't stop Ah seven eight get down and ya don't stop Aiyyo yo Kris, this goes out to all them house nigga Foot shufflin' moonshine, hamhock eatin', pickled-pig tuggin' Tap dancin', jheri curl activist, program directors That don't wanna play rap music, that's right, ya know what? Yo, ya know the rules Ya know the rules