both Keith and Ced Gee got an ill sense of humor, this album is crazy cla**ic,...
[Kool Keith]
Well I'm the ultimate, the rhyme imperial
I'm better, but some don't believe me though
But I'm a pro in hot material
on your Walkman, Box or any stereo
Uno, dos not quatro
Spanish girls, they like to call me Pancho
On the mic, innovating this pat-ter-en
You fell off, your brain is on Sa-tur-en
Take steps, and climb my ladder-and
climb... climb, climb
Pace the rhythm, and clock the time
that I leave, come back on beat
Different, telling and selling
Like a Skyjet, plane propelling
but dwelling, deep in your skull
My rhyme shines, and yours is dull
like dirt, it hurt to be wacker
But instead, I'll grab a big stack of
wack MC's, lay em down like tile
Scrap and garbage, germs I'll pile
to keep clean, I'm a movie scene
Ears turn, and needles lean
to cut scratches, in a part that matches
I'm leavin eyes, and brains with patches
Stuck, so push my luck
For any roach, or MC duck
Just watch me
