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