| Yo whassup yo
|
| We in the Ultra lab man
|
| We got this beat rollin man
|
| We might as well start this Chorus Line, y’all with that?
|
| Word up, yeah let’s do this shit man
|
| Let’s get on that
|
| Yo so how we gonna do this? |
| Yo.
|
| Matter of fact, you know how we gon' do it?
|
| Yo Tim Dog, you lead it off, aight?
|
| Aight
|
| We gonna, yeah we gonna get out of here man
|
| It’s on you, take it my brother
|
| Ahhhhhhhhh, call me the hick that vicked
|
| To lick the dick you spick, cause I’m too quick
|
| I be appraisin, raised with the brave
|
| I’m the headmaster and you’re my slave
|
| Metaphor master, rhymes are disaster
|
| Have the class to, faster, call me the master
|
| You wanna jet, project with a similie
|
| But I’m so large I boned your girl Emily
|
| Procrastinator, laid her, hate her, played her, sprayed her
|
| You wanna be taught? |
| Later
|
| I’ll control, get bold, uphold, re-fold
|
| In tow. |
| cause I got so
|
| Many dollars, scholars, holler
|
| Girlies wanna stop and talk but I walk
|
| Away, cause Dog don’t lay
|
| If rappers wanna play — go ride a sleigh
|
| I’ll compare and dare with a stare
|
| You say where? |
| I’m over here
|
| Metaphor physical, rhymes are artistical lyrical mircales
|
| Difficult, to some terrifical
|
| Hypothetically, alphabetically
|
| Energetically, theoretically
|
| No joke hardcore, rhymes will sting more
|
| Dog will get more, yes yes yes y’all
|
| I manifest protest and progress
|
| Confess with reflex, cause I get cold sex
|
| I can’t believe how dope I am
|
| Give me a pound, thank you ma’am
|
| So whether you think that I’m just a myth
|
| To rift to lift the gifts that itch the fifth
|
| To shift the spliff that’s in control to hold and fold
|
| A bowl’ll make you take and ache and fake
|
| Whoooo. |
| hot damn I’m great
|
| I’m on the Chorus Line
|
| It’s a Chorus Line (3X)
|
| Yo Trev (yeah) bust your rhyme
|
| Hold the beat, stop the beat, drop the beat
|
| Gimme a second, to think of
|
| The dopest lingua, lyrical interest
|
| The metaphor better for, if and in awe
|
| Before the score, want more then implore
|
| The rhyme line fine, com-bine design
|
| Redefine, intertwine
|
| Down the line, see the sign, stop sign
|
| Pause -- and let me enter your brain
|
| Reachin the full circumfrence then maintain
|
| To build, in which I equal to destroy
|
| I’m like a twister tornado, you’re just a toyboy
|
| Made, manufactured by, Parker Brothers
|
| You bought your rhymes, from another wholesale
|
| Words are stale, up to bail
|
| Cause you fail, try to trail
|
| My certain style, words and rhythm for connecting
|
| Dissecting, interjecting, I’m collecting
|
| Fiends, the way it actually should be know to me
|
| Cause that’s the way it has to be done for me
|
| Mine, and everyone else around
|
| You’re unequal to the sounds of my ratio
|
| My strength is mental universal power
|
| For the hour I will rain like a shower
|
| Nucleon, cause you be on, fatal
|
| More than able, also capable
|
| Of takin you out without a doubt
|
| And with clout just a sissy, a sucker girl scout
|
| I’ll rewind myself and then begin again
|
| Strike ignite and burn, just like hydrogen
|
| Come again, as I intend to start to end
|
| To go beyond, means of a titan
|
| I’m fightin, releasing my fury to cause static
|
| And shine, the superstar, reign supreme
|
| T.R. |
| the Lover has got to be
|
| Dope and def, the best that never fessed
|
| Unless you guessed the test, a threat in chess
|
| Never mess up for my Chorus Line
|
| Yo Ced, here’s your rhyme
|
| Metaphor layer, kickin it righteous
|
| Ced Gee’s the hypest, man that might just
|
| Rip into this, rap right through this
|
| Beat that’s sweet to eat, I’m not new to this
|
| Rappin with swing and, bein distinct man
|
| Seein the waffle can, rap with me understand
|
| The fact I sound def means that I’m buildin
|
| I’m so dope I got rhymes by the million
|
| The image maker breaker taker faker shaker
|
| You rhyme like me, you shoulda stayed the
|
| Hell out the industry, cause that means you’re jockin me
|
| Your sweating me, getting me, telling me, you’re not ahead of me
|
| But that’s not all, I just feel that I’m better than
|
| Cause I’m Ultra, and I’m a veteran
|
| With rhymes, by the thous', stacks and piles
|
| I’m a scientist, you say how
|
| The hell can we ever trust, Ced Gee when he starts to bust
|
| A rhyme with gale force, conducting with mega-thrust |
| To build or ill or kill or deal a fill the will
|
| That make the people straight and still
|
| To prance and dance and find romance and take the chance
|
| To glance, while I still deal
|
| Rhymes that’s powerful, witty and logical
|
| Mystical just to show, what I know when I go
|
| Out, and move on the battle tip
|
| You rhymes like, you’se a quick pick to stick
|
| The type of hype I like to recite on — my Chorus Line
|
| Yeah boy it’s a Chorus Line
|
| Aiyyo Keith (yo) you know what?
|
| It’s your rhyme
|
| I’m crankin up with the rhymes, brain tanks need fuel
|
| Sunoco, diesel rhymes are locked in, turbo
|
| Combustion attitude, gratitude, increasing altitude
|
| Levels, but changing latitude
|
| It’s very rude when you step on my path
|
| I laugh and giggle, smile and grin my friend
|
| My style within — holds the righs to win
|
| Your brain I bend, like a pound of steel
|
| Lethal power, to me you’re weasel power
|
| I’m overloaded with tons of diesel power
|
| Contraction, you’re not ready for action
|
| Two hundred rappers a day, I keep waxin
|
| Buffin cleanin polishin, every act up
|
| You wanna battle with me you must be cracked up
|
| Stop the jokes the games you’re playin
|
| You never were sayin or payin, one bit of attention
|
| To me my rhymes my clothes my hat my shoes
|
| My shirt my tie, the glasses on my eye
|
| I try, not to cry
|
| Cause you’re wack as ever, never better
|
| Clever to pick up the mic, in any snow or rain
|
| Whether or not you tried to scheme or dream
|
| A beam of life, but my lyrics are bright
|
| Like a satellite, with crystal ball knowledge
|
| I got to college, attend to astrology, test
|
| A million groups’ll fess, I’m still the best
|
| Kool Keith to impress
|
| I’m like a heat ray, cookin up your brain
|
| I like it well done, on the Chorus Line |