| Yeah! |
| Kool Keith
|
| Black Sil (yeah yeah) and company!
|
| As we party. |
| two-zero-zero-zero
|
| Step in coat check, vocal supreme sound perfect
|
| You wack man, haven’t you heard this?
|
| Matador king ladies swarm around me like Jon B
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| As I stop rappers tryin to copy Alpo (?) Rich Port (?) and AZ
|
| My temperatures one-thousand-three
|
| Look at these big head kids on labels tryin to MC
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| With a globe dome
|
| I told you to tell that man to stay home
|
| Tell Russell to call me with Sylvia Rhome
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| Gave him the gas, now he gotta pump in his ass
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| I don’t care if you go out with Stacey Dash
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| Rentin cars, you tryin to copy Nas
|
| Sound like A.G., you ain’t my man from Cold Crush KayGee
|
| Don’t try to play me
|
| You never made a record with Mo Bee, and Master P
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| I saw you on the Greyhound bus station floor
|
| Layin down with a doo rag on like a circus clown
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| Strippers keep dancin around, I’m Bronx bound
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| Your fans catch migraines from me doin my thang
|
| Chorus: Kool Keith (repeat 4X)
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| We sweet unique Pete
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| Look at these ladies massagin our feet
|
| Yeah
|
| Yo showdown, sho' shot, double-K, flow pop
|
| Navigate, interactive flashback
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| Now who nice wit it? |
| Spit it on the block daily
|
| Product, never shady, slang the real
|
| Send it to backstage, flame created a rage
|
| Mays (?) bump that in my mezzanine controller
|
| High-roller, program, this shit jam
|
| To quick access, asses on my lap crouches
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| Dip through; |
| y’all need a piece of this mental
|
| Plus a sip of this dick in your mouth
|
| Either that or stop sleepin, peepin the next man’s style
|
| I elaborate on fraudulent and stick to the wild
|
| Phone-tap, we order Ocean Spray with that
|
| Fuji film, honey spread that
|
| Finger the asscrack in fact I’ma bounce with that
|
| (Yeah, bounce with that)
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| Fuckin dancers back to back
|
| Aww yeah
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| Chorus Two: Kool Keith (repeat 4X)
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| We’re sweet unique Pete
|
| Ladies massagin our feet |