Ya Know the Rules

Aiyyo aiyyo Kris they know the rules

Hahahahaha yeah ya don't stop (say what?)

A ya don't stop (BDP in the house) a ya don't stop

(Check it out check it out... Yo D!)

Yo bust it yo yo Kris hold on

Let me give a shout out to some people aight bust it

A Scott LaRock and ya don't stop

A Sammy be and ya don't stop

A Mister Cee and ya don't stop

A Cool V and ya don't stop

Evil E, and ya don't stop

A Easylee, and ya don't stop

A DJ Scratch, and ya don't stop

A Spinderella, and ya don't stop

Jam Master Jay, and ya don't stop

A PA Mase, and ya don't stop

So yo Kris, my mellow my man yo

Get on the mic and do the best you can

Well, the teacher comes to you, in effect

From a different style, a whole different sect

I inject, force and intellect

When I hit the mic, suckers hit the deck

I come correct and practice what I preach

I don't pimp you or rule you I teach

Come through the doors and slap up whores

Ordering them to put back on their drawers

Cause, I run their pimp

When I leave he leaves with a limp

Shrimp, I got the tartar sauce

Never underestimate the power of the force

of the intellectual KRS-One

I don't think yet my job is done, because

I stand alone while others have to verify

Just why they are thought to be fly

Makin the public believe that they are way up in the sky

Sort of like a rap superguy

But I, horrify and terrify the super duper rap guy

Because you're SOFT as a lullaby

While they sit on their throne lookin

Well I'm walkin in the streets of Brooklyn

Or Harlem and Queens and Bronx and

I'm even out there walkin in Compton

Cause everywhere BDP is schoolin

So anywhere, KRS is coolin

I'm not foolin, cause no, I'm not a fool

Don't act stupid boy, you know the rules

Word, aiyyo Kris, they act like they don't know the rules

But yo, I tell you what

Yo get on the mic and tell em what makes up KRS-One

YaknowhatI'msayin? Huh, and ya don't stop

Two: KRS

Yo, from off the sidewalk I grab the mic and talk

Born nineteen-sixty-five in the state of New York

My name is Kris Parker, KRS-One for short

I slap up crews and rock parties for sport

Lived on the streets about eight years straight

There I got my education and learned to debate

So when I pick up the microphone I know what I'm sayin

Education doesn't come from simply obeyin

the curriculum, of the school criteria

In fact what I learned I found inferior

I'm not a Muslim but I do support them

My Father in heaven taught me and taught them

I'm not a Christian, but I won't diss em

I'm not a Jew, I don't practice Judaism

I'm not a Buddhist, but Buddha's a master

I don't eat beef pork nor Diet Shasta

Reason for this is very simple indeed

When it comes to music everybody's in need

You got wealthy artists spendin money loosely

You ask about the culture, they talk 'bout Gucci

Metaphysics, the science of life

And how to live, free from strife

Walk with ease, and no disease

Understand that I am the breeze

And the trees, oceans and seas

And the be and the D and the P's

Suckers try it, but I don't buy it

When I speak you seek to stay quiet

Shut up! What what? You better stay cool

And heed the warning boy, you know the rules!

Ah one two yeah, and ya don't stop

Ah three four (say what?) and ya don't stop

Ah five six (pop pop) and ya don't stop

Ah seven eight (get down) and ya don't stop

Aiyyo yo Kris, this goes out to all them house nigga

(foot shufflin) moonshine (hamhock eatin) pickled-pig tuggin

(tap dancin) jheri curl activist (program directors)

That don't want to play rap music (that's right, ya know what?)

Yo, ya know the rules

Ha, ha-ha hah!