Boogie Down Productions - House n***a's lyrics

[Intro] Excuse me oh sire What? We've found a place to bury the lies and the false histories Where is this place? What shall it be called? It's in every inner city, and we'll call it the library where we'll bury the lies Splendid, splendid, but now-- Wait! Wait! Somebody's coming! Who is that? It's KRS One! Get him out of here now-- (Sound of machine gun fire...) [verse 1] Let me see, let me see, how shall I start If I say stop the violence, I won't chart Maybe I should write some songs like Mozart Cause many people don't believe rap is an art Wake up, shake up, hypocrite look alive Blastmaster KRS-One will revive Four or five million still deprived On how to survive, wake up and realize Some people say I am a rap missionary Some people say I am a walking dictionary Some people say I am truly legendary But what I am is simply a black revolutionary I write rhymes on plain stationery Mary, Mary, quite contrary Doesn't make sense in my vocabulary Uncle Tom house n***as, do scare me So they can't be around, I don't do this For every Jesus, there must be a Judas It's the concept of the house n***a, field n***a The house n***a will sell you up the river So to ma**a, he'll look bigger And when ya be under a rock, he'll slither But I'll grab the tail of the house n***a Pull the trigger and his head I'll deliver To the court of righteous people Black, white, or Indian, we're all equal So all your racist codes I'll decode, explode And eat you like apple pie a la mode On a hot day, don't bring me no hamhocks Cause round the clock, I'll kick their bu*tocks All afternoon in the cla**room, in the living room, in the bathroom In the swimming pool, on a footstool Then I'll stop - nope, April fools! Whip out the baseball bat and somehow March your racist bu*t to Moscow [Verse 2] What can I say, o ye of little faith To think that KRS-One has surely been erased What a waste, my finger points at the face of the human race They're confused and misplaced My words are subliminal, sometimes metaphysical I teach, not preach, you want a challenge, I'll start dissing you I go philosophical, my topic'll Turn the cold, ignorant hot and tropical You want a palm tree and nice dope shade? Only if the universal law's obeyed Which is know thyself, for better mental health Yet so many rappers are preoccupied with wealth On my shelf, yeah, I got titles Other artists want belts and idols World cups from seminars and conventions Competitions and not to mention The award shows for pimps and hoes And every other hypocrite that flaunt their clothes KRS knows, so he just grows Always saying something different from the average Joes So they can front and wear the biggest chain But it doesn't write albums, I believe it is the brain So I'll remain plain, while you reign I'm loving it You be the king and I'll overthrow your government Send your crew, triple it or double it I'll out-think 'em, choke 'em, and shrink 'em Down to your size despite their cries In the face of intelligence, ignorance dies Yeah, it's simple edutainment Rap needed a teacher, so I became it Rough and ready, the beats are very steady With lyrics sharp as a machete Clap, there's another house n***a's neck Now his soft Uncle Tom crew is in check Ego wrecked and rhymes corrected By KRS One, produced and directed