Artist: Boogie Down Productions Album: Criminal Minded Song: Dope Beat My name is that top of all of those that mix Turnin poetry into cash for eighty ... seven Some did it got paid, some jams were never played But I am just a poet who watched the whole parade Go by, and why? Cos they wasn't fly Others claim to be fresh But they're not KRS I cannot walk around the street with my head in the clouds Either runnin on my gear or havin colors too loud Everything must coincide with the way I feel And by the way, it's Scott LaRock on the wheels of steel So I take one step to adjust the mic I get around the whole city so I do wear Nike I like the funky beat A studio like to meet I write the crazy fresh lyrics And I don't eat meat You can look me up and down, and my DJ too Because we make up the Boogie Down Productions crew Takin out MC's on the 1, 2, 3 No matter who they claim to be in society Because we know their games, we ?appall their? ??? If they need a different style we can get ?large? He's I.C.U., he's out to kill I'm KRS and we get ill DJ Scott LaRock got his own beat The extravagant life is what we seek I will tell you like this cos I know for a fact I will live a long life and I don't smoke crack Captivatin the crowd 7 days a week You know what they told me to say? I got the dope beat For me to say again another verse of my rhyme Means what you heard before must've blew up your mind So now it's time to find poetry like mine Do not waste all your time because I'm one-of-a-kind Pullin out, easy goin cos the money be flowin 6'4", brown eyes, and I'm always showin Stupid MC's on the mic the way it 'posed to be done ?They? study rhymes all week but I be rhymin for fun When they lose they get upset, ?always? pullin a gun But they will snap out of that because I'm KRS-One Not two, not three, but o-n-e Get it right the first time I won't repeat this rhyme If you think that you can burn me with your amateur ways Keep in mind that I been out there from back in the days I don't brag about the people I know Because they're still bluffin, they're not givin me nuthin I can walk around the city with the rhymes I flaunt Cos no matter how you front it's still the ones you want See, I am funky fresh and poetry is my opinion Takin out you suckas while Scott LaRock is spinnin My name is KRS-One, I'm still kinda young I don't wear Adidas cos my name ain't Run Got Nikes on my feet and to be complete I can rock an American or reggae beat Got rhymes for 70's, 80's, and 90's Not bein conceited but it won't pay to try me Out to any feud, any battle, any reason Make the rhymes up every season, this style, I'm just teasin Pick up the pace, homeboy, pick up the pace You're way behind schedule, listen to what I'm tellin you This particular style may vary, The things I converse about are heard rarely Some can't bear me, others try to scare me Soundin intelligent but not yet equivalent You know what? I.C.U. is in the house... Miss Melodie is in the house... ?Lena? Love is in the house... D-Nice rocks the house... ?Gold Miss? ??? rocks the house... Flavis Walker turns em out... ?42 Black? knocks em out... Til my mellow pulled his gun, rock the house... ?Naughty? bust it out... McBoo turns it out... Chuck Chillout cuts it up... Red Alert breaks it out... Scott LaRock Jr. my pride and joy... KRS-One His mother's first son And no ?he can? never run... ?BD?... ?BD?... Scott LaRock... Scott LaRock