Ya Know the Rules

Lyrics

[Intro: D-Nice, (KRS-ONE)] Aiyyo, aiyyo, Kris they know the rules Hahahahaha, yeah, ya don't stop (Say what?) And ya don't stop (BDP in the house), and 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 B, 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 P.A. Mase, and ya don't stop So yo, Kris, my mellow, my man, yo Get on the mic and do the best you can [Verse 1: KRS-ONE] 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 super-guy 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 [Interlude: D-Nice] 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 [Verse 2: KRS-ONE] 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 B 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! [Outro: D-Nice] 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 wanna play rap music (That's right, ya know what?) Yo, ya know the rules Ha, ha-ha, hah!