Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens Manhattan, Staten Island
Keith! In the house
[Kool Keith]
It ain't about the b**h with a wig like she comin from China
Y'all fronted in rented Benzes with Avis on 'em
No breakfast, I'm goin home, f** Chelsea or diner
Let the guys with the chrome buckets expose the cuffs, be a co-signer
I'm in your a** man, close like your Starter jacket liner
Dr. J sharper, plug your a**hole up with a tub stopper
Your wife's a New York City Breaker
Your baby's mom is a pop-locker, know the metropolitan area
Custodian n***a, you sanitation worker sh** cleaner
Floor mopper, look down on the city with binoculars
Piss out at choppers
Defecate 80 thousand feet in the air
I flip your small game, take your small urban territory
Put the street in the air
My sh** rise, increase like subway fare
Scuffle your dinner wear
Your sneaker line ain't makin it, I piss on four pair
You know the big-head boy from the projects, retarded motherf**er
You know you be in child care, you better stay there
Your crew get picked up with sh**ty diapers from daycare
Your foe be his crib d**h
The top rappers receive hot dogs up they a**, they get F
Mark flush the toilet, you sh** next
Expand your stomach range with tummy pains
sh** in the back of your Bentley when it rains
Leave your wooden panels with sh** stains
Throw the turds out the windows
Watch them bounce in the carpool lanes
Hot 97
[Chorus: repeat 4X]
The sh** expand, over your Jacob the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand
[Mark Live]
Yo... yo where's the block at? Uhh
They say 106th & Park is on, I'm mad, f** it it's on
I haven't heard a hard record in years, uhh
Everybody dancin, Harlem Shakin, strip Free naked
And put a pole up, and watch the ratings go up
And if AJ steps, take his Jacob and slap off the makeup
I'm in the crowd like Lee Malvo, with a sniper rifle
A hockey mask, a butcher knife
Yo who knows what I'll do
They sellin dreams with a rap battle - uh-huh
Look - yeah - you rappers are kids, and rappin with a rap rattle
... nobody ever comes out - that's right
No twelve inches, no fires, no jets
Early retired, no links
No chains, no videos, no baguettes - uhh
"Don't Speak," uh-huh - I'm gettin Gwen Stefani
She's tossed up, sellin p**y like every week
So don't fight me - uhh, you can hype me - that's right
I'm liable to go out with a terrorist style
I'm liable to flow out with a terrible style
Viacom bought you (s**ers)
I'm outta here n***a I'm changin the dial
[Kool Keith]
Hot 97
[Chorus]
[Kool Keith]
No more cars and sh**, we suicide bombers
n***a, walk up in your radio station
We get gas from the gas station n***a
You better ask public relations, blow out your DJ booth
With hats off, like motherf**in Dr. Seuss
No buckets, strictly bombs under the North Face goose
Caught you with acid baby
We put it in your motherf**in orange juice
f** a turned up cap
How bout a burnt up motherf**in baseball cap
With a whack-a** rap
We detonate with three sticks of dynamite through your turntables
Blow out your a** crack
You ain't the motherf**in pimp, you ain't the motherf**in mack
Review this right, you gon' drink a daquiri
Are you gon' come back to me
Are you gon' get smacked from me
f** around look how you act to me... b**h... Hot 97
[Chorus]