Now here's a funky beat, my rhyme is updated,
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For soft Ducks, I played it, once,
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A biter jumped on it,
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Girls got stupid, freaks humped on it,
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And from the back, I pumped on it, mostly,
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With skills, top finesse, East to West, but I guess,
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I'm right, while others are wrong,
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Trying to teach, and using my song, along,
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With your wickety wack, get back, sit back,
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Sit back down and think about it,
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Whenever you're dissing me, You are the roach,
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Your six legs squishing me, and pushing me, steadily on,
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Metaphor, predator, psyche more, on my tour brains get sore,
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I'll be sure, I'm fresher, so tell me how I "do love you",
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Ducks!, wack rappers around, in town never wearing no boots,
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With torn Balis and sharkskin suits, rip a story,
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Then do his auditory, Canal Street, is my territory, for gold glory,
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Reaching my hand out, to smack rappers and making them stand outside,
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Waiting for me, to tell them, my secret style,
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And show them how it really is done, my son,
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Now I'm back for you, and if you're bad Im a smack you through,
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A glass of rhymes, shattering,
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Now you're cut up, say what up?
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Shut up, cuz I'm feeling it
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Feelin' It
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| Kool Keith |
