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One two, one two |
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Ultramagnetic's in full effect |
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We talkin' about givin' the drummer some |
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You know what, kool keith, yo, tell 'em what's on your mind |
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Kool keith: |
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I'm ready |
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And now it's my turn to build |
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Uplift, get swift, then drift |
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Off... and do my own thing |
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Switch up |
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Change my pitch up |
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Smack my bitch up, like a pimp |
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For any rapper who attempt to wear troop's |
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And step on my path |
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I'm willing as a a-1 general |
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Rhyme enforcer 235 on a rhyme test |
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Whatever group or vest in line |
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I put 'em all behind |
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Play mc ultra as a warning sign of my |
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Skill, and what my mind deserves |
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I smell a grape in the duck preserves |
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And who deserves the right to be king of the screen |
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And shout wack poetry |
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What, are you buggin' |
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Germs that want to law me |
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Quit it, before i heat your ear off |
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Let your burn deduct another year off rappin' |
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For a face i'm slappin' |
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Gimme applause when hands start clappin' |
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Now give the drummer some |
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Ced-gee: |
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Well i'm ced |
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The rhyming force delta |
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When i enter, you best take shelter |
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Cuz i'm dope, and yes i will melt a |
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Anyone who tried to even felt a |
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Emotion, or thought that they could hang with me |
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I cut you up, because you are my enemy |
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On my stage, interfering with my radius |
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So step back, cuz i'mma start to spray with this |
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Can, of raid spray |
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If you're a germ, filthy like aids, i'll |
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Clean, you up with heat |
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Vapors, scrubbin' and scrubbing |
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Like a mistake on paper, i'm rubbin' |
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Erasin' you out like some ink |
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Cuz you dirty, your rhymes are stink |
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Like garbage, i hafta put you in a hefty |
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Or instead, should i just let thee |
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Weak mc's accumulate like dust |
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Take out my duster, shine them up and |
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Teach... them respect |
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Hook 'em up just like a tape deck |
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Mono or stereo, cuz i'm a real pro |
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With a cameo, and not an afro |
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This beat is funky, i'm not a nympho |
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You know why? |
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Then give the drummer some |
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Kool keith: |
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Some rappers are ratin' us |
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Some are hatin' us |
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Some are talkin' |
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Some debatin' us |
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Critically, but physically my mind is |
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Self-taught like a rap pro designed us |
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A matter to burn mc's and toys with |
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Flame, 500 degrees of |
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Rhymes, that heat and cook and |
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Sizzle, your brain is on the grill at |
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Nighttime, and what about the daytime |
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I hear the wack ones, they get a lot of play time |
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Saying they're wack and wastin' my airtime |
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You're #2 and next in my spare time |
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Another rhyme has to be controllin' |
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And for your brain, it must have been stolen |
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Tookin', yes, taken away |
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I'm on the court, and i'm fading away with a |
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Jumper, i shoot a rhyme in your face |
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Add the points while i rob the bass |
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Incredible, come in three dimensions |
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Parallel with the funky extensions |
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I'm kool keith runnin' rap conventions on |
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Time |
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Now give the drummer some |
