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you get yours - kool keith lyrics

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yo keith, what up? this is dj kutmasta kurt
you know i get about 82 thousand 3 million records in the mail
but now i can only play about 2, what’s up with that?

there are 8 billion 2 thousand white black records
they on my scr-t-m they should be on whack records
i know the industry is wet like a l-b–
everybody’s crazy, gone hysterical
def jam flopped, the whole epic was a miracle

m.c.’s came psycho, toy like tyco
poppin’ that weak sh-t like myers, you ain’t michael
i left my sons in sp-ce behind years ago
coco puffs, your crew remind me of a cheerio

you’re like a condom, an old piece of dried up sperm
don’t try to mess with me, you rappin’ f-ckin’ germ
m.c.’s come up they call themself now papa
i’m entertained watchin’ prime time do do droppa

you dissed the naked man, you ain’t the boss man
i run over panties and heads with a range rover
i kidnap amy, grab my tapes back from marc genova
and stick an enema pipe right into faith newman
you think i’m lincoln, abraham or harry truman

you get yours, c-m smeared all in your face
you get yours, tell me how it tastes?
you get yours, c-m smeared all in your face
you get yours, tell me how it tastes?
you get yours, c-m smeared all in your face
you get yours, tell me how it tastes?

one two, one two copycats sound like my wife
you on my b-lls kiddie style man sound like phife
i’m illin’ tonight, you see me stand with suge knight
you rappers are scared, now wet r-ct-ms get tight

you might as well sing a simple song like you’re brandy
you wanna be down, put panties on i’ll call you sandy
like stu watchin’ his back, yo that sh-t is fine
hold ’em and p-ss david berk wanna blow his mind

shootin’ the jizm, m.c.’s lightin’ stinkin’ izm
awe that stink put that out, man that blunt sh-t
i’m on some cunnalingus, women know that c-nt sh-t
gimmick experts your logo’s won’t make it work

as monica lynch about the flinstones
n-ggas still l!ckin’ my d-ck like chicken bones
who’s on wax with pumps on wack soundtracks?
lisa cortez or ed shoulda called me

russell and lyor, andre know that sh-t would bore me
look in your rolodex naked man, i come and flex
tie up your -n-s r-ct-m piece, brothers heads are next

girl rappers l!ck my -ss before they’re most famous
you name ’em all i gave abortions with hangers
spread ’em easy people, this won’t hurt

you get yours, c-m smeared all in your face
you get yours, tell me how it tastes?
you get yours, c-m smeared all in your face
you get yours, tell me how it tastes?
you get yours, c-m smeared all in your face
you get yours, tell me how it tastes?

you ran to pete rock, you ran to premier
with new york sounds, professor couldn’t save your career
watch your -ss ducket, play me out like dave gossit
m.c.’s should quit or sign with tuff city
i left management and alex, f-ckin’ tough t-tty

i went to hammers house some people didn’t know me
dave jacobson was lying, what the f-ck he just told me?
lookin’ back at tom silverman’s convention
money was made and counted for, not to mention

laminates don’t cost much, that sh-t is cheap
like n-gga’s tryin’ front at jack the rapper every week
don’t try that hand shake sh-t my d-ck is more legit
you get yours, c-m smeared all in your face

you puppets on jive with budget tryin’ a stay alive
suckin’ the d-ck twice of owner kid barry weiss
you like red dirt the two faced alcoholic

you get yours, c-m smeared all in your face
you get yours, tell me how it tastes?
you get yours, c-m smeared all in your face
you get yours, tell me how it tastes?
you get yours, c-m smeared all in your face
you get yours, tell me how it tastes?

sunday 11:37 pm

yeah, now that’s what i’m talkin’ about
i think i should just take these records
and start an ash tray business
or maybe i’ll uh just donate ’em to the goodwill
(huh, huh)
atleast it’s a tax write off, aight man, peace

- kool keith lyrics

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