Funky (remix) Lyrics - Ultramagnetic Mc's

[Keith] Yo whattup Ced? This beat is funky 

[C.Gee] Word up Kool Keith you know why this beat is funky? 

Cause I ain't havin it no other way 

[Keith] Word 

[C.Gee] So bust this, yo Keith 

I want you to rip this beat apart, it's on you 

[Kool Keith] 

I keep stamina, for a beat that's rocketable 

For you wack MC's, it's jocketable 

Bite the notes and quotes, analysis 

Home pissed as I disrespect you obedients 

But my rhymes correct you like a switch 

to a small mistake 

I wax all of you, and leave your ears to ache 

You need Excedrin, Anacin, medicine 

And for your brain, what better sin stupid 

Now you picked your choice 

You didn't win now you're seein my voice 

in the flesh, step out your radio 

No illusions, back in stereo 

So here we go as I step on to you 

I never knew you but my rhymes go through you 

like acid, I burn your whole suit off 

I'm Heat Miser, and you're Rudolph 

For any date and time you wanna square off 

My rhymes are clippers, they cut your hair off 

the back the sides the top above your brain 

below your skull, I step to you 

cause you're plastic, my mind is solid steel 

I make your domepiece spin like a windmill 

Slow, I think it's time to go 

I'm not havin it 

Whattup Trev? I'm not havin it 

I'm runnin the universe about right now 

[TR Love] 

Yeah? Yo Ced Gee, what you got to add to that? 

[Ced Gee] 

I tell a crowd of rappers, I need a whole stadium 

The Kingdome, an arena or palladium 

Step off, while I walk on stage 

with the rhyme missile, cold blowin your ass up 

For better safety, leave your mask up 

Musically, I'm like lye in your face 

I drown meters with tons of bass 

You can't take it, the funkier I make it 

With brick walls, you can't break it 

Toy boy, you beat the Noyd 

I be a Jetson, smooth like Elroy 

Blastoff, I pull your cells out a socket 

A twelve gauge with rhymes I gotta cock it 

I'm deep fryin, chicken MC's who fell off 

Recruited as a boy scout 

And now the sissy, becomes a girl scout 

Tryin to rip and lift and shift style to mines 

on the wack-ass beat 

I get unique, write rhymes for your feet 

to shuffle, watch your shoes scuffle on down 

to the funky rhythm that I give em 

Ced Gee on the mic, I'm not havin it 

Word up, I'm not havin it man 

I'm fed up with all this nonsense goin on 

[TR Love] 

Yeah I see a lot of things gettin out of hand out here 

So Keith, get it off your chest 

[Kool Keith] 

I'm not that average rapper, nobody's equal 

And for the biter, his beat will 

grow and grow and grow, til he finds out 

He's not a pro-fessionally, 

up to par, with myself 

No comp', I like to battle myself 

by myself, compete again myself 

Score myself, on these weak ass charts 

How can a fool say he's on the top? 

Eight million rappers, my rhymes stop 

with lyric bombs, the wack ones drop 

like snowflakes, they turn to cornflakes 

My voice shakes, causin earthquakes in Michigan 

parts of New York 

For local rappers, ducks who tryo to hawk 

on the avenue, my rhymes are international 

Covering, worldly smothering 

I'm brain bustin, so take a Bufferin quick 

until your knots start to heal 

and go down, and feel OK 

But like my son, you still obey 

certain laws, a major is a factor 

I pull your skull out, move it with a tractor 

Diesel power, crushin MC's who try to 

talk and mix and change and bite the lyrics 

of a master, I'm Kool Keith, I'm not havin it