MC Schooling

From the day we learned to tie our shoes we been tending to our own needs/
Some at different speeds, the same goes for connecting up mic leads/
We heard NWA, De La Soul, 2pac and Eminem/
Now like a horney schlong weve decided we want in/
From writing your 1st text rhyme and vets telling you your wack/,
Crying the same night, not putting up a fight, thinking ull never get the nack/
Until you picked up your text book, took solid notes and revised/
And when the exam results came in heads were pleasantly surprised/
Some take a dip in form after, choose not to listen in class/
So then others hear, work hard and at the finale tend to pass/
But now the juniors are over, take yo mum shopping for a mic/
Coz when the new term comes, you have to get it right/
Writing rhymes is cool, but being the Fonz just aint enuff/
Developing the ability to spit, is the course that’s really tough/
So kids work through your lunch time, study at the morning break/
Coz only a few get a Diploma who knows wot it will take/

Hook

Yo Rhyme is a profession, some people enter the final zone/
But it all comes down to skill alone on the microphone/
So wheather Hip Hop, Garage, Dancehall, House or even announcers in the ring/
I got respect for all MCS, who constantly do their thing/

Ive been entered in the system two years N now its time to progress/
To secondary level, and like a Bevel, I got a partner with whom to confess/
My rap shortcomings, I threw down the books, studied yet never learnt/
Set flames to every slight promise, put them out, yet they remain still burnt/
But now the extinguishers on stand by, n ive got TLA/
U heard it on what happened unfinished business here to stay/
10 paces forwards, literal school will have to take a rest/
Because when compared to spitting bars its always 2nd best/
No trophies in the cabinet, not much credentials to the name/
But audios the first glimpse of light down the path from which we came/
Im still an inexperienced cat who could do with more education/
But you don’t know how many times ive had to watch the demonstration/
Don’t need no stabalizers I aint an infant kid no more/
Time to open up for real, coz I know I can endure/
The critiscm which gets u down, like a misplaced picture/
My name now inhabits a permanent place as Hip Hop fixture/


HOOK

Now some have produced cheap labour without picking up their reward/
Lesion was sustained as they were struck by a sharp sword/
Never say die had vanished like a magical illusion/
Wack rappers getting paid added to the confusion/
High school dropouts, yet professors handed them their scroll/
While more talented workers were still scrounging of the rhyming dole/
Degrees N PHDS are handed out on luck once in a while/
But it cant be wont be you, plus that certainly aint your style/
Elevation is the only way, most of us have Hip Hop morals/
So that’s why the love of currency only leads to quarrels/
Were residents of the UK academy how u think we feel/
Yank cats being slippery, hard to catch like they was an eel/
The record buying public applauds and heads will never grasp/
Onto the gills, of the nations ills, just give up and collapse/
True some deserve the acclaim, discovered and fully bred/
Yet some abused the system n order, the fat cats who are fed//