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{*scratched: "Whattya think makes up a K-R-S?"*} |
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[KRS-One] |
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Skinny cat, young cat, with a knapsack strapped to my back |
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1981 before the crack attack |
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I used to let the Olde English 800 suds bubble |
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In the last car of the Franklin Avenue shuttle |
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Brooklyn, no doubt, Wingate Park, no doubt |
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Prospect Park I'm all laid out |
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Homeless, my gear played out and I know this |
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But I'm an MC I stay focused |
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I took the shuttle to the D and wrote my rhymes in a hour |
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Took the D to the E, last stop the Twin Towers |
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Sittin in the belly of the beast |
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In the World Trade organization, bein harassed by the police |
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I wrote my rhymes right there on the spot |
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New York City, 1984 corruption was hot |
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Cats sellin uzis out the Jacob Javits Center for a high price |
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Let me tell you 'bout my life |
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[Chorus] |
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{*scratched: "The type of shit a young black man |
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gotta go through every day of his life"*} |
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{*scratched: "Hard times to live in |
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Wake up in the morning thank God"*} |
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{*scratched: "The type of shit a young black man |
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gotta go through every day of his life"*} |
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{*scratched: "Hard times to live in |
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Wake up in the morning"*} ... {*"Now it's my turn"*} |
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{"Listen"} |
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[KRS-One] |
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Eighty-five comes in, eighty-six comes in |
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The marijuana with the cocaine mix comes in |
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High class hustlers, I'm takin flicks with them |
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My first songs Red Alert, he's mixin them |
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This a far cry from a kid sleepin on the bench |
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Now I'm V.I.P. in the club, this don't make sense |
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But it does, as I take daps and hugs |
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from cats that move drugs, they say "Kris rise above" |
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Everybody knew my style, Kris was no coward |
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I wanted to get in the game but my peeps wouldn't allow it |
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They'd say, "Read them books and write them hooks |
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Save our children, give 'em a whole new outlook" |
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So I did, I lived like any street kid |
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But I was handed 20 books, others were handed 20 year bids |
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Still they wouldn't sell to your mother or your wife |
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There was respect man~! Let me tell you 'bout my life |
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[Chorus] |
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[KRS-One] |
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1987 my career blowin up now |
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Me and Scott LaRock took the year growin up now |
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Me I'm just a private cat, whatever you perceive as live |
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KRS is as live as that |
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We the livest act, in eighty-eight, eighty-nine, and ninety-now |
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But them years be far behind me now |
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In ninety-one, no one can find me now |
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I chose the underground to rhyme where it's grimy, WOW |
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Rewind me now, 13 albums for you to see |
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Or catch me speakin at them universities |
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My mind stays keen, I'm hardly ever seen |
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I do a lot of work, just not in the mainstream |
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{*scratched: "Know what you need to learn |
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Old school artists don't always burn"*} |
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{*scratched: "Know what you need to learn... |
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KRS-One... don't always burn"*} |