Boogie Down Productions - My Philosophy lyrics
[Boogie Down Productions - My Philosophy lyrics]
("So, you're a philosopher?")
("Yes, I think very deeply")
In about four seconds
A teacher will begin to speak
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 kind of 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 laughed '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 got to 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 MC 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!
In about four seconds
A teacher will begin to speak
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
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 MCs 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 kind of 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 MCs 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
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 get along nor sing a song
'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
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 eff 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 un rational
A lot of MCs like to
Use the word "dramatical"
Fresh for '88, you suckers
("Yes, I think very deeply")
In about four seconds
A teacher will begin to speak
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 kind of 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 laughed '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 got to 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 MC 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!
In about four seconds
A teacher will begin to speak
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
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 MCs 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 kind of 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 MCs 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
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 get along nor sing a song
'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
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 eff 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 un rational
A lot of MCs like to
Use the word "dramatical"
Fresh for '88, you suckers