[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