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[Tamika Jones] 

"Yo, what's up I'm Tamika Jones from 'Keep it Real' Magazine, and I'm 
about to enter the minds of two of the most controversial rappers of 
one of the most underrated rap groups of all time, the Ultramagnetic 
MC's. First, Kool Keith, why in your songs do you always refer to the 
words anal and rectum? And why do you always use the words doo-doo and 
pee-pee?" 

[Kool Keith] 

"Because that's what the whole fucking rap industry is. 
Besides, I have other words like gorilla, parakeet, giraffe,and 
also.....monkey" 

As I strike in your area, shut down close your shops 
Your crew got high blood pressure, you still bite on pork chops 
Your style is greasy, so what your hair is nappy peasy 
I wet your brain and tie your penis to the two train 
Drag you down the tracks, spray paint like artifacts 
With the rest of your crew, tied and smeared with dog doo-doo 
You know my trash bags are packed, lick my nut sacs 
Emcees are still wack, on the new smell like mildew 
Gimmicks is your plan, strategy is stop your marketing 
When you rhyme the mic steps from the socket and 
You could never be classic, your rappin skill's plastic 
All that hard and mean look I'll get your ass kicked 
Pistol whupped like a bitch, get smacked by your pimp 
Your steelo's undercover, corny on the real brother 
Keep that mop down, just like your album sound 
You flop, no niggas bound to make my head bop 
So save that cartoon shit for Saturday 
Everything is booty 
Between your legs you sport a cootie 
Don't fuck with me 

[Tamika Jones] 
"Holy anal catastrophe Kool Keith, that's fucking amazing! But I think 
your fans will want to know how you'll accomplish this. Can you 
explain this to me?" 

[Kool Keith] 
With the A1 6600 phone detector 
Y'all can't tap my shit, eavesdropping in the projects 
Missiles dropped, your narrow hard times stories flop 
I'll throw grenades and blow your rectum out your fucking block 
Hush town, your staircase becomes a mental town 
Cover your peephole, wires reach bombs in your window 
Your elevator stopped, your bubblegum sitting below 
I thought so, your verbal shit wasn't fucking pro 
Go flush your toilet, crack the bowl, see the fucking bomb 
Three seconds flat your fucking chest splatters in your palm 
Iranian arab with muslim bells on my face 
Skeleton bones, I stash bazookas in the chicken place 
My helmet's from haiti, infrared's at my house 
Uptown bronx with cheese traps for you fucking mouse 
Federal tax bullshit I light your real estate 
Raw in to stop (?), your asshole's tied to a milk crate 
Suck my nuts with dual tube night vision goggles 
Biological agents blew Waco Texas 
Dynamite's packed in trunks, alarms on your Lexus 
Suck my dick for real, my 44 mag is steel 
I'll catch you out there, your crew'll have grey hair 

[singing] 
"Super luv, super luv, baby, super luv, superman, superman luv, lois 
lane, superman luv, superman."

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