Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Raise It Up, artist - Ultramagnetic MC's. Date of issue: 17.05.1993
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Raise It Up |
| 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 |
| 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! |
| 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 |