You need a bad operation. Gimme the scissors, hammer, flame.
Dallas Mavericks want me as a bald-headed 5' 8" guard with a 95" vertical. Vince Carter respect my legs, ask Shawn Kemp.
Starstruck with one buck, your girl look like Donald Duck.
I wear black while suckers wear pink.
I get atomic, hypo-galactical... Word to mom, I'm in my own world. Galaxy rays? Powerful.
They use the simple back and forth, the same, old rhythm That a baby can pick up, and join, right with 'em. But their rhymes are pathetic, they think they copacetic Using nursery terms, at least not poetic.
Rhyme to kill, rhyme to murder, rhyme to stomp, Rhyme to ill, rhyme to romp, Rhyme to smack, rhyme to shock, rhyme to roll, Rhyme to destroy anything, toy boy. On the microphone: I'm Poppa Large, big shot on the East Coast.
Infrareds on little people standing with some big heads, I was Captain Kirk, walkin' with a black t-shirt. LAPD, the nurse asked did my knee hurt? I was in pain, little Martians tryin' ta take my brain, Hospitals came, detectives wrote down my name. I was to blame, my life never been the same. A true story; I tell ya, it'll never bore me. My classmate died, my other friend named Cory Drinkin' 40s, he jumped out the project window, Stabbed himself with a yellow number 2 pencil.
Now my helmet's on, you can't tell me I'm not in space.
Shakespeare's gone, don't even think about it.
I call you once...you never dialed back. Twice...you never dialed back. Saturday morning, live, I'm on Soul Train, talkin' to Don Cornelius. Saturday night, my phone rings... Saturday night, I won't answer. Saturday night, my phone rings again... Saturday night, I don't answer.
Think about it, if you was there standing looking at me. What would you do, if I hit your face with dog doo-doo?
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! You're Kool, you usin' big words!" I went to college, I'm even more stupid, herb.
I come prepared with the white suit and stethoscope, Listen to your heartbeat, delete beep beep BEEP. Your insurance is high, but my price is cheap.
Tough like a Ukulele.
Business money reattaches worldwide Deep inside stops the diamond rocks In a million world, billion world, quitrillion world Rap moves on to the year three thousand
Supersonic bionic robot voodoo power Equator ex my chance to flex skills on Ampex
I've done so many hip-hop albums already I got tired of just hip-hop.
The beats change, I mean you got a lot of artists out there advancing new sound, new technology, new beats everything sounding very futuristic, so I feel it would have been boring for me to do another hip-hop record.
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