Intro: Kool Keith. Yeah... yo Don gimme a little bit of that chicken. That smooth chicken a little bit of that gravy. And I want some... old hot jazz biscuits. With a little bit of that blues butter. Bring in the snare. Verse One: Kool Keith. They never understood many people were so slow. My funky type of rhyme and my style is pyscho. Complex wrecks wrecks my style go X X. I move around off beat creatin more styles. Showin white boys other kids my black styles. I kick lyrics like shoes right in your face. Walk up on a carJack of Spades pluck the ace. I get slow-er down in on in. Flowin like I used to be on Critical Beatdown. 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 yo Kool you usin big words. I went to college I'm even more stupid herb. Back on the scene to put a lesson out. Even if I have to pull a black Smith and Wesson out. I grab a hammer stick a nail in that little crack. Tame the monkey show the hummingbird how to act. I get atomic hypo-galactical. Word to mom I'm in my own world. Galaxy raised! Powerful. Chorus:. Raise it up (8X). Verse Two: Ced G. Yo yo money grip money grip now this ain't no ego trip. Yo money grip money grip now this ain't no ego trip. Now back in the days and we used to use elevation. And then the people said "What's up with UltraMagnetic?. Yo they sound kind of crazy Kool Keith is a psycho. Ced G is a scientist the lyrics are hyper". Creating a fusion of sampling hits. We all came down just to be distinctive. Some rappers complex but they can't see the music. We show orchestration and with funky prevention. It was different and black and it caused devestation. Gotta new bag signed a deal with Wild Pitch. Now we're back on the street with the flavor you missed. So get with the program Ultra hot off your real high. I know I'm a real pro like Michigan Fab 5. Runnin and shootin for me alley-oopin. Is makin an album with big distribution. Promote it and hype it make up posters then snipe it. Raise it up!. Chorus. Interlude: Announcer. Ladies and gentlemen live from Flatbush Brooklyn. I bring to you tonight the Godfather Don. From the Orphans.... ("Hit it!"). Verse Three: Godfather Don. Lookin down the barrel of a gun is no fun. So for some I rum-pum-pum and flip like a tongue. of young dragon with the force and ten sacks of buddah. To wax a crew of jacks and looters even your hoe I shoot her. In the face with the mother-uffin bass. Now taste the venom of the ish that I sent em. And foes that doze I chew em like gristle. Wipe my mouth with tissue there's no issue. I'm first print mint check the wizard. The force of my blast blow em like a Tec in a blizzard. Now what is it? Exquisite physics to stain your brain. When they visit cardiovascular masterer words are massacred damn. I got beats rhymes tanks gats includin Ultra. Check the loop snoop low we do ya like a vulture. Back in the days there was just beef and knuckles. Nowadays a beatdown consists of some clips. My oowop rips with abandon at random. Whiff you be ghost like Michael Landon. When I bust amazing nuts you play the cut. The Father's Ultra paid I raise it... up. Chorus: repeat 2X