[Intro]
Excuse me oh sire
What?
We've found a place to bury the lies and the false histories
Where is this place? What shall it be called?
It's in every inner city, and we'll call it the library where we'll bury the lies
Splendid, splendid, but now--
Wait! Wait! Somebody's coming!
Who is that?
It's KRS One!
Get him out of here now--
(Sound of machine gun fire...)
[Verse 1]
Let me see, let me see, how shall I start
If I say stop the violence, I won't chart
Maybe I should write some songs like Mozart
'Cause many people don't believe rap is an art
Wake up, shake up, hypocrite look alive
Blastmaster KRS-One will revive
Four or five million still deprived
On how to survive, wake up and realize
Some people say I am a rap missionary
Some people say I am a walking dictionary
Some people say I am truly legendary
But what I am is simply a black revolutionary
I write rhymes on plain stationery
Mary, Mary, quite contrary
Doesn't make sense in my vocabulary
Uncle Tom house niggas, do scare me
So they can't be around, I don't do this
For every Jesus, there must be a Judas
It's the concept of the house nigga, field nigga
The house nigga will sell you up the river
So to massa, he'll look bigger
And when ya beef under a rock, he'll slither
But I'll grab the tail of the house nigga
Pull the trigger and his head I'll deliver
To the court of righteous people
Black, white, or Indian, we're all equal
So all your racist codes I'll decode, explode
And eat you like apple pie a la mode
On a hot day, don't bring me no hamhocks
'Cause 'round the clock, I'll kick their buttocks
All afternoon in the classroom, in the living room, in the bathroom
In the swimming pool, on a footstool
Then I'll stop - nope, April fools!
Whip out the baseball bat and somehow
March your racist butt to Moscow
Excuse me oh sire
What?
We've found a place to bury the lies and the false histories
Where is this place? What shall it be called?
It's in every inner city, and we'll call it the library where we'll bury the lies
Splendid, splendid, but now--
Wait! Wait! Somebody's coming!
Who is that?
It's KRS One!
Get him out of here now--
(Sound of machine gun fire...)
[Verse 1]
Let me see, let me see, how shall I start
If I say stop the violence, I won't chart
Maybe I should write some songs like Mozart
'Cause many people don't believe rap is an art
Wake up, shake up, hypocrite look alive
Blastmaster KRS-One will revive
Four or five million still deprived
On how to survive, wake up and realize
Some people say I am a rap missionary
Some people say I am a walking dictionary
Some people say I am truly legendary
But what I am is simply a black revolutionary
I write rhymes on plain stationery
Mary, Mary, quite contrary
Doesn't make sense in my vocabulary
Uncle Tom house niggas, do scare me
So they can't be around, I don't do this
For every Jesus, there must be a Judas
It's the concept of the house nigga, field nigga
The house nigga will sell you up the river
So to massa, he'll look bigger
And when ya beef under a rock, he'll slither
But I'll grab the tail of the house nigga
Pull the trigger and his head I'll deliver
To the court of righteous people
Black, white, or Indian, we're all equal
So all your racist codes I'll decode, explode
And eat you like apple pie a la mode
On a hot day, don't bring me no hamhocks
'Cause 'round the clock, I'll kick their buttocks
All afternoon in the classroom, in the living room, in the bathroom
In the swimming pool, on a footstool
Then I'll stop - nope, April fools!
Whip out the baseball bat and somehow
March your racist butt to Moscow
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