[Kool Keith]
A lot of rappers ain't sh**, they just bullsh**
They wanna step on stage and pop piles of sh**
But I ain't with it, so black quit it
Who pulled the plug? .. You know I did it
Cause you sound whack and, f**ed up with no cla**
But I get deeper, stick a rhyme up in yo' a**
Light up your inner skull, and burn up your rectum
MC's are doo-doo I never did respect 'em
f** 'em, like a b**h with no drawers on
So you want a tape, stupid-a** with pause on
Damn, I cut you off on my radio
As I take a step back, and piss on your video
Piss on the pop charts and fake material
Rappers know I'm stupid mad, I'm gettin fed up
And f** all your whack groups, they get set up
Five at a time, let 'em come with that cheap sh**
Now 1 Adam 12, with that fantasy street sh**
Or rappers who try to teach, and brag and pop sh**
But I'm on 8th floor, and ready to drop sh**
Pounds and pounds and stacked up with metaphor
Open the bag, step aside and then let it pour
Hittin your brain like a current through a lightbulb
Or any old bar, plus your neighborhood nightclub
Beware yo, you're talkin out of your a**
{*laughter*}
[Kool Keith]
You say you make this much, and you make that much
You come in your white Benz, and pull up like Cap'n Crunch
But I don't give a f**; I drive a Geo
Now who got the best rhymes? Tell 'em Leo
While you stand stiff like Gilligan with no Island
I burn the MC, who wrote your f**ed up style and
Cause I'ma get the axe out, and start choppin 'em
Call President Bush to keep stoppin 'em
Whack MC's get the f** out the business
Oh you with a major? Now tell me what is this
Yo, I'm gettin busy and hyped up
While you gotta scream your rebel tracks are f**ed up
Measured unmeasured, off-beat and left field
What dummy produced that? That sh** ain't real
I'm tellin facts, I'm blowin up on your a**
And if your show is tonight, I'm goin up in your a**
Just like an outlaw, smooth rugged and raw
I never roll with a clown, when I'm out on tour
I'm not impressed, f** around with that cheap style
That African tribe sh**, political freestyle
School is lettin out now, it's three o'clock
f** all that weak whack sh**, it's four o'clock
Time to get paid, the critic kingdom New York an'
While rappers try to talk I step away and keep walkin
f** 'em~! Male rappers and females
Cause you ain't worth two cents, a bag with seashells
Tryin to dance, tryin to talk, tryin to rhyme
Tryin to preach, tryin to ill
Tryin to teach, tryin to scream, listen close chief
You're talkin out of your a**
{*laughter*}
[Kool Keith]
Continuin, no f**in bum can stop me
Unless you write in, and tell the company drop me
But I don't think so, c'mon Freddy
I woke up at 8 o'clock, I'm f**in ready
For any your whack sh** that's hard to sell
10 weeks on Billboard, it's hard to tell
See I don't get mad, the X'll get even
I jump on stage, your dirty a** is leavin
You're lettin off steam - oh yeah really?
No time for rat turds, you're f**in silly
Don't come with that phony Monie macaroni Love style
Cause I'ma get mad, stupid crazy and buckwild
Son of a b**h, step to me Rich
And watch the X flow reverse and switch
MC's to the other side, they get waxed though
You never knew I could rhyme? You didn't axe though
I'm rollin all of you two-faced ba*tards
Ready or not, that's why I always practice
Catch me off guard, yo Sandman f** you
I stand in the front while other rappers they duck you
Come inside, they try to sneak out the back door
As I get hyped and criticize the whack more
f** 'em, I got some sh** for their black a**
White rappers too, I got some sh** for their whack a**
Cause I don't hold back with tons of mega sh**
Come on stage sway down with a weak hit
But you think you're fresh though, you ain't jack sh**
Smoother than Rhythm X, go 'head with that whack sh**
Aiyyo duke, you're talkin out of your a**
Yes, this is the one Rhythm X
And all you stupid-a** motherf**ers who think you nice
I wanna see what you got
But I know you ain't got sh**
Ain't nuttin but jack doo-doo dumb doo-doo whack sh**
But you step in boy, and you get played like a toy
SEE YA! f** you