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Let me see let me see
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How should I start
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If I say stop the violence I won't chart
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Maybe I should write some songs like Mozart
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'Cause many people don't believe rap is an art
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Wake up shake up hypocrite look alive
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Blastmaster KRS One will revive
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Four or five million still deprived
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When out to survive wake up and realize
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Some people say I am a rap missionary
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Some people say I am a walking dictionary
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Some people say I am truly legendary
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But what I am is simply a black revolutionary
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I write rhymes on plain stationary
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Mary, Mary, quite contrary
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Doesn't make sense in my vocabulary
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Uncle Tom house niggaz, too scary
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So they can't be around, I don't do this
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For every Jesus, there must be a Judas
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It's the concept of the house nigga, field nigga
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The house nigga will sell you up the river
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So to massa, he'll look bigger
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And when ya bet under a rock, he'll slither
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But I'll grab the tail of the house nigga
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Pull the trigger and his head I'll deliver
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To the court of righteous people
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Black, white, or Indian, we're all equal
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So all ya racist codes I'll decode, explode
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And eat you like apple pie a la mode
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On a hot day, don't bring me no hamhocks
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Cause round the clock, I'll kick their buttocks
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All afternoon in the classroom, in the living room
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In the bathroom, in the swimming pool
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On a footstool, then I'll stop -- nope, April fools!
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Whip out the baseball bat and somehow
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March your racist butt to Moscow
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Ya know what I'm saying?
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Are there any, are there any intelligent people in the house?
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What can I say, o ye of little faith
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To think that KRS-One has surely been erased
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What a waste, my finger points at the face of the human race
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They're confused and misplaced
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My words are subliminal, sometimes metaphysical
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I teach, not preach, you want a challenge? I'll start dissin you
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I go philosophical by topical
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Hearin the call, ignorant, hot tropical
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Ya want a palm tree and nice dope shade?
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Only if the universal law is obeyed
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Which is "know thyself" for better mental health
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Yet so many rappers are preoccupied with wealth
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On my shelf I got titles
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Other artists want belts and idols
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World cups from seminars and conventions
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Competition and not to mention
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The award shows for pimps and hoes
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And every other hypocrite that flaunt their clothes
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KRS knows, so he just grows
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Always sayin somethin different from the average Joe's
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So I confront them with the biggest chain
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but it doesn't rate albums, I believe it is the brain
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So I'll remain free while you reign, I'm lovin it
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You be the king and I'll overthrow your government
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Send your crew to Berlin or Dublin
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I'll out-think em, chump em, and shrink em
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Down to ya size, despite the cries
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In the face of intelligence, ignorance dies
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Dear, it's simple edutainment
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Rap needed a teacher, so I became it
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Rough and ready, the beats are very steady
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With lyrics sharp as a machete
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Clap, there's another house niggaz neck
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Another soft Unlce Tom crew is in check
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Ego wrecked and rhymes corrected
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By KRS-One, produced and directed
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House Nigga
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Boogie Down Productions |