Alex Dionisio - My Philosophy lyrics

So, you're a philosopher? Yes
I think very deeply

In about four seconds, a
Teacher will begin to speak,  huh

Let us begin what,  where
Why or when will all be explained
Like instructions to a game
See I'm not insane, in fact I'm kinda
Rational when I be asking you
"who is more dramatical?"
This one or 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 diss you
Everyone saw me on the last album cover
Holding a pistol, something far from a
Lover, beside my brother, s-c-o-t-t
I just laugh 'cause no one can defeat me


This is lecture number two, "My Philosophy"
Number one was "Poetry, " you know it's me
This is my philosophy many
Artists gotta learn
I'm not flammable, I don't burn
So please stop burning 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 diss you
Like me, we stood up for the South Bronx
And every sucker emcee had a response?
You think we care? I know that
They are on the tip
My posse from the Bronx is thick
In real real life, we roll correctly
A lot of suckers 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 got juice
I just produce, create
Innovate on a higher level
I'll be back, but for now just sekkle

Did you hear the main thing
That was just said?

In about four seconds
A teacher will begin to speak

I'll play the 9 and you play the target
You all know my name so I
Guess I'll just start it
Or should I say start this
Teaching I'm the artist
Styles and new concepts at their hardest
Yo, 'cause I'm a teacher
And Scott 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 suckers 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 thumping
Others say they're bad, but they're bugging
Let me show you something now about hip-hop
About D-Nice, Melodie, and Scott La Rock
I'll get a pen, a pencil, a marker
Mainly what I write is for
The average New Yorker
Some emcees be talking and talking
Trying to show how black people are walking
But I don't walk this way
To portray or reinforce stereotypes
Of today, like all my brothers
Eat chicken and watermelon
Talk broken English and drug-selling
See, I'm telling and teaching pure facts
The way some act in rap is kinda wack
And it lacks creativity and intelligence
But they don't care 'cause
Their company's selling it
It's my philosophy on the industry
Don't bother dissing me or
Even wishing we'd soften
Dilute or commercialize all the lyrics
'cause it's about time one of
Y'all hear it and hear it first hand from
An 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 Scott La Rock

So, you're a philosopher?

Yes, I think very deeply

In about four seconds
A teacher will begin to speak

How many emcees 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
That's Kenny Parker
My other brother ICU 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 or
Govern a certain industry
All inside this room right now
Would be in misery
No one would sing a song or get along
'cause everyone'd be singing for the king
Am I wrong?
I say yo, what's up? It's me again
Scott La Rock, KRS, BDP again
Many people had the nerve to think that
We would end the trend with
Criminal Minded, an album which is only
Ten funky, funky, funky, funky
Funky hit records
No more than four minutes and some seconds
The competition checks and checks
And keeps checking they take the album
Take it home and start sweating
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 and Scott 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 sounds? A little un rational
A lot of emcees like to
Use the word "dramatical"

Fresh for '88, you suckers