House Nigga's

[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

[Verse 2]

What can I say, o ye of little faith

To think that KRS-One has surely been erased

What a waste, my finger points at the face of the human race

They're confused and misplaced

My words are subliminal, sometimes metaphysical

I teach, not preach, you want a challenge, I'll start dissing you

I go philosophical, my topic'll

Turn the cold, ignorant hot and tropical

You want a palm tree and nice dope shade?

Only if the universal law's obeyed

Which is know thyself, for better mental health

Yet so many rappers are preoccupied with wealth

On my shelf, yeah, I got titles

Other artists want belts and idols

World cups from seminars and conventions

Competitions and not to mention

The award shows for pimps and hoes

And every other hypocrite that flaunt their clothes

KRS knows, so he just grows

Always saying something different from the average Joes

So they can front and wear the biggest chain

But it doesn't write albums, I believe it is the brain

So I'll remain plain, while you reign I'm loving it

You be the king and I'll overthrow your government

Send your crew, triple it or double it

I'll out-think 'em, choke 'em, and shrink 'em

Down to your size despite their cries

In the face of intelligence, ignorance dies

Yeah, it's simple edutainment

Rap needed a teacher, so I became it

Rough and ready, the beats are very steady

With lyrics sharp as a machete

Clap, there's another house nigga's neck

Now his soft Uncle Tom crew is in check

Ego wrecked and rhymes corrected

By KRS-One, produced and directed