Lyrics Your Mom is My Wife - Kool Keith, Kutmasta Kurt

Your Mom is My Wife

Yo wassup, this is Kool Keith, '96 to 2000
I don’t be out there with these little boys tryin' to freestyle — they my sons
Freestyles with their whack styles (my styl-oz)
But I’m big time, I married your mother, gave you a portion of my skills (so
step off)
I’m beyond that, kid — your daddy, boy.
You’ve been neglected
I was yo' father.
You jack MC’s — I left yo' brother
Y’all, was way too small, remember mommy had your brother
You got some rhymes now, and how for y’all forgot yo' daddy?
Your mom was pregnant in '86 ridin' in my Caddy
I gave her royalties for you, money to feed your crew
You were starvin', cryin', diapers, 'I wanna rhyme' (waaaah)
Yo' mom was on my back, 'Won't you teach him how to rhyme?'
Now you hard as a rock, tough boys, all my sons
That’s a shame boys, I bought your last Christmas toys
Remember mix, I’m still the best y’all
I was potty trainin' with baby doo-doo on your vest
Your crew is no test, respect yo' mother, she’s my wife
You’re still a toddler, man, whatever, a monkey all your life
You don’t want the skill, I spittles on your anal bill
I read some prime-time stories that’s more deep than Jack and Jill
So come on, I’m not the one stepdad — I’m your real father
Your mom is my wife
She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
Your mom is my wife
She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
Your mom is my wife
She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
I’m still big-time, yeah I know in fact, son here’s my autograph
You was my favorite kid, I helped you study math
Me and yo' mother raise you up in the projects
Now you want to battle yo' father and let your skill flex
Take your rap out now, comment on yo'
Your crew got no chance on the label kickin' crap-rap
Look at your groupies, your girlfriends, they on my tip
They wanna see your father get loose, your daddy flip
I drop more, like Mr. Magic
You copy my tapes — my rap style’s still graphic
You wonder how I run things from '86 to '96?
My daddy’s still in the mix
With my mommy they had they 8th baby, my little brother Tommy:
'I can grow up one day with my crew, battle daddy
You love my mommy, my newborn baby brother Larry, goo-goo, ga-ga.'
Pass them wet Pampers, Ali-Babas
Your mom is my wife
She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
Your mom is my wife
She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
Your mom is my wife
She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
Me and yo mom’s still tight, we still together
Why is my chain on yo' neck and why you wearin' my leather?
'Yo daddy, I’m hardcore, I’m Russell Simmon’s tour'
But I taught you
'You taught me how to rhyme.'
What I taught you: off beat and on time
You live off me to be the copycat clone-MC
I wear disguises now.
MC’s don’t know who is me
I keep my stylo' with mommy, we on the down-low
We on paid vacations in Hawaii, I’m a real pro
I hear your whack-style that you think is so superb
You need to rip your papers, kick your albums to the curb
That’s enough of your bluff like H&R pumpin' stuff
I’m your real father, extra biological
This gift’s raw for all y’all, psychological
Your mom is my wife
She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
Your mom is my wife
She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
Your mom is my wife
She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
Yeah, my wife forever, as we go to leave this nonsense and walk into our
atmosphere
She’s my wife.
I still love her