Nyc Street Corner Battle Lyrics - Big Time - Ultra

[thug] I told you this fuckin guy man 

Yo man, yo B, this is my fuckin block, get the fuck off 

[Keith] Shut the fuck up 

You never had a fuckin green card in your fuckin life 

You don't any means to make fuckin money 

[thug] What? What the fuck you talkin bout mayn? 

[Keith] You fuckin stupid, plantella Adidas motherfucker 

[thug] Saturday Night Live, John Travolta ass motherfucker 

[Keith] Suck my dick 

[thug] You fuckin spaghetti and meatball eatin motherfucker 

[Keith] You don't have any fuckin knowledge 

[thug] Fuck you man, conio man, suck my dick man 

[Keith] Little Italy ay, you don't know about the.. real estate man 

[thug] Fuck you man, what the fuck you wanna do mayn? 

[thug] You wanna do somethin mayn? You wanna do somethin mayn? 

[thug] Take this mayn {*POP*} take this mayn {*POP*} 

[thug] Take this mayn {*POP POP*} dead now! 

[Tim Dog] 

Here we go with some new shit, fuck the bullshit 

Bronx niggaz rule shit, cause we always pull quick, what? 

Motherfucker back up, you know whassup 

Put two in your gut, POP POP what, now shut 'em up 

Mad niggaz wanna have this, murderous status 

I'm known as the motherfuckin rhymin apparatus 

The fattest, MC of the era, cause terror 

Could niggaz fuck with this? Never, but however 

Many foes try to apprehend, they can't comprehend 

Cause when they step to me they don't win 

I bend, break MC's who fake the funk 

Leavin wack rappers in the back of my truck 

Then eat some rat poison and I drink some ammonia 

Came out bein that gastric felonious 

serial killer, that you know, as Kujo 

Fuck around with Dog and get slammed like a sumo 

"Waitin to Exhale" like Whitney, you can't get wit me 

I wanna see that nigga from Uptown, who bit me 

Bitin, never writin, that's not excitin 

I'm invitin, all y'all suckers who like fightin 

So come on, BRING IT ON, bring your weapon 

No it's not rainin but you still gettin wettened 

Smash your fuckin ass like a Savage, I'm Randy 

Niggaz don't want no beef cause I keep the tec handy 

Shoot you from your head to your toe 

You have so many holes in your shit it spells act like you know 

[unknown female MC] 

Well I thought you knew motherfuckers.. 

Now take a second while I reveal myself into the industry 

By smokin lyrical chokin teacher provokin MC 

Clear the way for me, unique, delete the weak 

As I defeat the claim to be sweet, by keepin it street 

Lazy poet and I don't got to have them tactics to turn fake rappers 

and crack addicts, tell the weak hit from my bomb shit 

Ooooh! Damn, no stress or contest, the impossible 

I stand on top of them, no doubt about it, I'm unstoppable 

Got a train of focus, e'ry track I smoke this 

Cannabis is nice, six I'm causin a ruckus 

You can't fuck with us, known for keepin it true 

Not fakin the funk like bustaz, so what you gonna do? 

I address, I'm better than fresh 

Mo' potent than stress, now try to test, nigga! 

[Kool Keith] 

Yeah fuck y'all motherfuckers who need y'all whole album 

to prove you got skills, suck this 

I'm makin rappers load they apples pack up, move they wagons 

My style like Bruce Lee, MC's walkin into the +Dragon+ 

My bald head super sharp, I walk like Telly Savales 

Niggaz on a tightrope, they style is off balance 

Hyper mental like Larry Davis on the instrumental 

Rappers actin poodle, but I'ma drop the kennel 

No threats; don't sleep on me you slept on Bernard Goetz 

With a Berkowitz twist, your projects heard of this 

My unique style retarded, kids smell the piss 

With hand grenades I cut your rectum out with razor blades 

Emergency please, gorillas bleedin through they knees 

My style werewolf - AOWWWWWWWWWW! 

I howl on your elevator, open your door, see you late 

I drop sticks of dynamite, open your mailbox 

Don't look for guns, I paid some crackheads for yo' glocks 

Your style berback(?), lion tiger asscrack 

No need to worry low prices call me Crazy Eddie 

I put the head to sleep and send that brain to Betty 

I'm outtie.. five thousand eight