So, you're a philosopher   Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes   I think very deeply, I think very deeply, I think very deeply   I think, I think, I think very deeply   In about 4 seconds, a teacher will begin to speak   I think very deeply      Let us begin, what, where, why, or when   Will all be explalined 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   Holdling 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, ya know it's me   This is my philosopy, 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   Ya gotta 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   Ya 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 lotta 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 seckle      In about 4 seconds, a teacher will begin to speak      I'll play the 9, and you play the target   Ya 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'ma teacher, and Scott is a scholar   It aint 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 setup, a lot of games   A lot of suckers with colorful names   I'm so-and-so, I'm this, I'm that   But they're all just whick, whick, 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 they're bad, but they're buggin'   Let me show ya somethin' now about hip hop   About D-Nice, Melody, and Scott LaRock   I get a pen, a pencil, a marker   Meaning what I write is for the average New Yorker   Some MCs be talkin' and talkin'   Trying to show how black people are walkin'   But I don't want 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 teachin real 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   Soften, dilute, or commercialize all the lyrics   'Cause it's about time one of yall 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 LaRock      You're a philosopher, I think very deeply   In about 4 seconds, a teacher will begin to speak      How many MCs 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 make 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 mysery   No one would get along, nor sing a song   "Cause everyone'd be singing for the King, am I wrong   MC Yo, what's up, it's me again   Scott LaRock, 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 4 minutes and some seconds   The competition checks and checks, and keeps checkin'   They take the album, take it home and start sweatin'   Why, well it's simple, to them it's kinda 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 LaRock   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 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 unrational   A lotta MCs like to use the word dramatical   Fresh, for '88 YOU SUCKERS!