KRS‐One - My Life Lyrics

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

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