Give The Drummer Some Lyrics - Ultramagnetic Mc's

one two, one two 

Ultramagnetic's in full effect 

we talkin' about givin' the drummer some 

you know what, Kool Keith, yo, tell 'em what's on your mind 

KOOL KEITH: 

I'm ready 

And now it's my turn to build 

Uplift, get swift, then drift 

Off... and do my own thing 

Switch up 

Change my pitch up 

Smack my bitch up, like a pimp 

For any rapper who attempt to wear Troop's 

and step on my path 

I'm willing as a A-1 General 

Rhyme Enforcer 235 on a rhyme test 

Whatever group or vest in line 

I put 'em all behind 

Play MC Ultra as a warning sign of my 

Skill, and what my mind deserves 

I smell a grape in the duck preserves 

And who deserves the right to be king of the screen 

And shout wack poetry 

What, are you buggin' 

Germs that want to law me 

Quit it, before I heat your ear off 

Let your burn deduct another year off rappin' 

For a face I'm slappin' 

Gimme applause when hands start clappin' 

Now give the drummer some 

CED-GEE: 

Well I'm Ced 

The Rhyming Force Delta 

When I enter, you best take shelter 

'cause I'm dope, and yes I will melt a 

Anyone who tried to even felt a 

Emotion, or thought that they could hang with me 

I cut you up, because you are my enemy 

On my stage, interfering with my radius 

So step back, 'cause I'mma start to spray with this 

Can, of Raid Spray 

If you're a germ, filthy like AIDS, I'll 

Clean, you up with heat 

Vapors, scrubbin' and scrubbing 

Like a mistake on paper, I'm rubbin' 

erasin' you out like some ink 

'cause you dirty, your rhymes are stink 

Like garbage, I hafta put you in a Hefty 

Or instead, should I just let thee 

weak MC's accumulate like dust 

Take out my duster, shine them up and 

Teach... them respect 

Hook 'em up just like a tape deck 

Mono or Stereo, 'cause I'm a real pro 

With a cameo, and not an afro 

This beat is funky, I'm not a nympho 

You know why? 

Then give the drummer some 

KOOL KEITH: 

Some rappers are ratin' us 

some are hatin' us 

Some are talkin' 

some debatin' us 

Critically, but physically my mind is 

Self-taught like a rap pro designed us 

A matter to burn MC's and toys with 

Flame, 500 degrees of 

Rhymes, that heat and cook and 

sizzle, your brain is on the grill at 

Nighttime, and what about the daytime 

I hear the wack ones, they get a lot of play time 

Saying they're wack and wastin' my airtime 

You're #2 and next in my spare time 

Another rhyme has to be controllin' 

And for your brain, it must have been stolen 

tookin', yes, taken away 

I'm on the court, and I'm fading away with a 

Jumper, I shoot a rhyme in your face 

Add the points while I rob the bass 

Incredible, come in three dimensions 

Parallel with the funky extensions 

I'm Kool Keith runnin' rap conventions on 

Time 

Now give the drummer some