Ultramagnetic Mc's - Give The Drummer Some lyrics

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