Intro: Kool Keith
Yeah... yo Don, gimme a little bit of that chicken
That smooth chicken, a little bit of that gravy
And I want some... old hot jazz biscuits
With a little bit of that blues butter
Bring in the snare
Verse One: Kool Keith
They never understood, many people were so slow
My funky type of rhyme, and my style is pyscho
Complex wrecks wrecks, my style go X X
I move around off beat, creatin more styles
Showin white boys, other kids my black styles
I kick lyrics like shoes right in your face
Walk up on a carJack of Spades, pluck the ace
I get slow-er, down in, on in
Flowin like I used to be on Critical Beatdown
I drop styles on ears the public bite em
Not many went to school, so the dummies wouldn`t write em
They say yo Keith, yo Kool, you usin big words
I went to college, I`m even more stupid herb
Back on the scene to put a lesson out
Even if I have to pull a black Smith and Wesson out
I grab a hammer stick a nail in that little crack
Tame the monkey show the hummingbird how to act
I get atomic, hypo-galactical
Word to mom I`m in my own world
Galaxy raised! Powerful
Chorus:
Raise it up (8X)
Verse Two: Ced G
Yo, yo money grip money grip, now this ain`t no ego trip
Yo money grip money grip, now this ain`t no ego trip
Now back in the days and we used to use elevation
And then the people said What`s up, with UltraMagnetic?
Yo they sound kind of crazy, Kool Keith is a psycho
Ced G is a scientist, the lyrics are hyper
Creating a fusion, of sampling hits
We all came down just to be distinctive
Some rappers complex, but they can`t see the music
We show orchestration, and with funky prevention
It was different and black, and it caused devestation
Gotta new bag, signed a deal with Wild Pitch
Now we`re back on the street, with the flavor you missed
So get with the program, Ultra hot off your real high
I know I`m a real pro, like Michigan Fab 5
Runnin and shootin, for me alley-oopin
Is makin an album, with big distribution
Promote it and hype it, make up posters then snipe it
Raise it up!
Chorus
Interlude: Announcer
Ladies and gentlemen, live from Flatbush Brooklyn
I bring to you tonight, the Godfather Don
From the Orphans...
(Hit it!)
Verse Three: Godfather Don
Lookin down the barrel of a gun is no fun
So for some, I rum-pum-pum and flip, like a tongue
of young dragon, with the force and ten sacks of buddah
To wax a crew of jacks and looters, even your hoe I shoot her
In the face, with the mother-uffin bass
Now taste the venom of the ish that I sent em
And foes, that doze, I chew em like gristle
Wipe my mouth with tissue, there`s no issue
I`m first print, mint, check the wizard
The force of my blast, blow em like a Tec in a blizzard
Now what is it? Exquisite physics to stain your brain
When they visit cardiovascular masterer, words are massacred damn
I got beats rhymes tanks gats includin Ultra
Check the loop, snoop low we do ya like a vulture
Back in the days, there was just beef and knuckles
Nowadays, a beatdown consists of some clips
My oowop, rips with abandon at random
Whiff, you be ghost, like Michael Landon
When I bust amazing nuts you play the cut
The Father`s Ultra paid, I raise it... up
Chorus: repeat 2X
