Critical Beatdown Lyrics - Singles - Ultramagnetic Mc's

Well, I'm the equalizer, known to be graphic 

I clear static, breakin' up traffic, move, while I enter the groove 

I'm on top and happy to prove, to whack MC's 

Who claim to be better than me, no way 

I'm frankly, more clever than all of you, each and every one 

My son, pay close attention, I take your brain to another dimension 

Hold it, mold it, shape it, you got a knife, yes, I wanna scrape it 

Up and down, sideways, any way, I can be rude to you 

But I'll rap and be crude to you and eat up 

Toy ducks I beat up, I am the oven, your brains I wanna heat up 

Mega, supersonic degrees 

I come around, roastin' MC's with fire 

To burn the toy, liar raw meat, turn the flame higher 

Cook it like a fish, I'll hook it for any beat 

It's time that I took it right, correctly to the top 

With the rhythm and as your head, bop 

I'm hype, for the critical beat down 

I'm attacking them, my job is stacking them 

For every rapper, must I be smacking them once, or twice in the face 

With rough beats, producin' the bass that blow out 

'Cause power to go out 

Inner spark, I'm ready to blow out like this, altitude level 

Reachin' forth, stompin' every devil in sight 

You might just wanna bite 

My illusions, mental confusions 

You're a mark, skulls, I've been abusin' 

Losin' any rapper who follow me 

Your girl loves me, now, she wanna swallow me 

Back up, move on to the rear 

When I'm on the stage, should be clear speakin', goin' ear to ear 

Places far, ducks would appear for the countdown 

So you wait to rhyme and twist, stuttering, uttering 

Parkay, margarine, everything butter and another thing 

You shoulda been a Muppet, a toy boy, a fake scream puppet 

I'm takin' titles and punks butter up it to me 

Said, gee on the mic, and I'm hype for the critical beat down 

Here's the K, combined the double O, swing in the L, I'm ready to go 

As Keith, Rap, General Chief Executive plus exquisite 

Mandatory, capital statements, I am the teacher 

Preaching what makes sense 

Class, you wasn't able to pass, for any germ or lice who come last 

I'm boric, high computing acid 

Get off the mic and won't you please pass it to me, for a one two check 

Give me a pound and lots of respect 

No hands, you disappointing my fans, you on reverb 

And talking to cans, hello, how are you doing? 

I come to wreck, and parties I'll ruin with rhymes, pumpin' up smoke 

Diesel advances, makin' them choke and cough up 

The hard headed, I'll soften, spongee, then after that, drink 

Roll the assess, the Buddha with the ganji 

Puff up, while I make tough stuff up 

I'm Kool Keith, cold rippin' MC's 

I'm hype for the critical beat down