Ivan "Doc" Rodriguez - My Philosophy lyrics

[Intro] ("So, you're a philosopher?") ("Yes, I think very deeply.") In about four seconds, a teacher will begin to speak [Verse 1] 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 dis 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 s**er 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 s**ers 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! [Verse 2] 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, cos 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 s**ers 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 tell 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 MC's 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 [Verse 3] How many MC's 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 I.C.U. 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 or 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 unrational A lot of emcees like to use the word dramatical! Fresh for '88, you s**ers