Ya Know the Rules

[d nice]
 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 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 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
 Verse one: krs
 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
 [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 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 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!
 [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!