Let me see let me see How should 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 When out 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 stationary Mary, Mary, quite contrary Doesn't make sense in my vocabulary Uncle Tom house niggaz, too scary 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 nigga, field nigga The house nigga will sell you up the river So to massa, he'll look bigger And when ya bet under a rock, he'll slither But I'll grab the tail of the house nigga 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 ya 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 buttocks All afternoon in the classroom, 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 butt to Moscow Ya know what I'm saying? Are there any, are there any intelligent people in the house? 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 dissin you I go philosophical by topical Hearin the call, ignorant, hot tropical Ya want a palm tree and nice dope shade? Only if the universal law is obeyed Which is "know thyself" for better mental health Yet so many rappers are preoccupied with wealth On my shelf I got titles Other artists want belts and idols World cups from seminars and conventions Competition 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 sayin somethin different from the average Joe's So I confront them with the biggest chain But it doesn't rate albums, I believe it is the brain So I'll remain free while you reign, I'm lovin it You be the king and I'll overthrow your government Send your crew to Berlin or Dublin I'll out-think em, chump em, and shrink em Down to ya size, despite the cries In the face of intelligence, ignorance dies Dear, 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 niggaz neck Another soft Unlce Tom crew is in check Ego wrecked and rhymes corrected By KRS-One, produced and directed
Die Texte der Lieder. Тексты песен - На сайте свыше 500 текстов песен.
