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KRS One( KRS-One )
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My Life
Lyricist:Donald Percival Baker, Lawrence Parker, Dax Reynosa
Whattya think makes up a KRS? Whattya think makes up a KRS? Whattya think makes up a KRS?
Skinny cat, young cat, with a knapsack strapped to my back 1981 before the crack attack I used to let the Old 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 police
I wrote my rhymes right there on the spot New York City, 1984 corruption was hot Cats sellin' Uzi's out the Jacob Javits Center for a high price Let me tell you 'bout my life
The type of shit a young black man Gotta go through every day of his life Hard times to live in, wake up in the morning Thank God
The type of shit a young black man Gotta go through every day of his life Hard times to live in, wake up in the morning (Now it's my turn, listen)
Eighty-five comes in, eighty-six comes in The marijuana with the cocaine mix comes in High class hustlers, I'm takin' flicks with them My first song's 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 Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com 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
The type of shit a young black man Gotta go through every day of his life Hard times to live in, wake up in the morning Thank God
The type of shit a young black man Gotta go through every day of his life Hard times to live in, wake up in the morning (Now it's my turn, listen)
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
Know what you need to learn Old school artists don't always burn Know what you need to learn KRS-One, don't always burn
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