|
[Tamika Jones]
|
|
"Yo, what's up I'm Tamika Jones from 'Keep it Real' Magazine, and I'm
|
about to enter the minds of two of the most controversial rappers of
|
one of the most underrated rap groups of all time, the Ultramagnetic
|
MC's. First, Kool Keith, why in your songs do you always refer to the
|
words anal and rectum? And why do you always use the words doo-doo and
|
pee-pee?"
|
|
[Kool Keith]
|
|
"Because that's what the whole fucking rap industry is.
|
Besides, I have other words like gorilla, parakeet, giraffe,and
|
also.....monkey"
|
|
As I strike in your area, shut down close your shops
|
Your crew got high blood pressure, you still bite on pork chops
|
Your style is greasy, so what your hair is nappy peasy
|
I wet your brain and tie your penis to the two train
|
Drag you down the tracks, spray paint like artifacts
|
With the rest of your crew, tied and smeared with dog doo-doo
|
You know my trash bags are packed, lick my nut sacs
|
Emcees are still wack, on the new smell like mildew
|
Gimmicks is your plan, strategy is stop your marketing
|
When you rhyme the mic steps from the socket and
|
You could never be classic, your rappin skill's plastic
|
All that hard and mean look I'll get your ass kicked
|
Pistol whupped like a bitch, get smacked by your pimp
|
Your steelo's undercover, corny on the real brother
|
Keep that mop down, just like your album sound
|
You flop, no niggas bound to make my head bop
|
So save that cartoon shit for Saturday
|
Everything is booty
|
Between your legs you sport a cootie
|
Don't fuck with me
|
|
[Tamika Jones]
|
"Holy anal catastrophe Kool Keith, that's fucking amazing! But I think
|
your fans will want to know how you'll accomplish this. Can you
|
explain this to me?"
|
|
[Kool Keith]
|
With the A1 6600 phone detector
|
Y'all can't tap my shit, eavesdropping in the projects
|
Missiles dropped, your narrow hard times stories flop
|
I'll throw grenades and blow your rectum out your fucking block
|
Hush town, your staircase becomes a mental town
|
Cover your peephole, wires reach bombs in your window
|
Your elevator stopped, your bubblegum sitting below
|
I thought so, your verbal shit wasn't fucking pro
|
Go flush your toilet, crack the bowl, see the fucking bomb
|
Three seconds flat your fucking chest splatters in your palm
|
Iranian arab with muslim bells on my face
|
Skeleton bones, I stash bazookas in the chicken place
|
My helmet's from haiti, infrared's at my house
|
Uptown bronx with cheese traps for you fucking mouse
|
Federal tax bullshit I light your real estate
|
Raw in to stop (?), your asshole's tied to a milk crate
|
Suck my nuts with dual tube night vision goggles
|
Biological agents blew Waco Texas
|
Dynamite's packed in trunks, alarms on your Lexus
|
Suck my dick for real, my 44 mag is steel
|
I'll catch you out there, your crew'll have grey hair
|
|
[singing]
|
"Super luv, super luv, baby, super luv, superman, superman luv, lois
|
lane, superman luv, superman."
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Super Luv
|
Ultra |