"Yo, what's up I'm Tamika Jones from 'Keep it Real' Magazine, and I'm
 about to enter the minds of two of the most controversial rappers of
 one of the most underrated rap groups of all time, the Ultramagnetic
 MC's. First, Kool Keith, why in your songs do you always refer to the
 words anal and rectum? And why do you always use the words doo-doo and
 pee-pee?"

 [Kool Keith]

 "Because that's what the whole fucking rap industry is.
 Besides, I have other words like gorilla, parakeet, giraffe,and
 also.....monkey"

 As I strike in your area, shut down close your shops
 Your crew got high blood pressure, you still bite on pork chops
 Your style is greasy, so what your hair is nappy peasy
 I wet your brain and tie your penis to the two train
 Drag you down the tracks, spray paint like artifacts
 With the rest of your crew, tied and smeared with dog doo-doo
 You know my trash bags are packed, lick my nut sacs
 Emcees are still wack, on the new smell like mildew
 Gimmicks is your plan, strategy is stop your marketing
 When you rhyme the mic steps from the socket and
 You could never be classic, your rappin skill's plastic
 All that hard and mean look I'll get your ass kicked
 Pistol whupped like a bitch, get smacked by your pimp
 Your steelo's undercover, corny on the real brother
 Keep that mop down, just like your album sound
 You flop, no niggas bound to make my head bop
 So save that cartoon shit for Saturday
 Everything is booty
 Between your legs you sport a cootie
 Don't fuck with me

 [Tamika Jones]
 "Holy anal catastrophe Kool Keith, that's fucking amazing! But I think
 your fans will want to know how you'll accomplish this. Can you
 explain this to me?"

 [Kool Keith]
 With the A1 6600 phone detector
 Y'all can't tap my shit, eavesdropping in the projects
 Missiles dropped, your narrow hard times stories flop
 I'll throw grenades and blow your rectum out your fucking block
 Hush town, your staircase becomes a mental town
 Cover your peephole, wires reach bombs in your window
 Your elevator stopped, your bubblegum sitting below
 I thought so, your verbal shit wasn't fucking pro
 Go flush your toilet, crack the bowl, see the fucking bomb
 Three seconds flat your fucking chest splatters in your palm
 Iranian arab with muslim bells on my face
 Skeleton bones, I stash bazookas in the chicken place
 My helmet's from haiti, infrared's at my house
 Uptown bronx with cheese traps for you fucking mouse
 Federal tax bullshit I light your real estate
 Raw in to stop (?), your asshole's tied to a milk crate
 Suck my nuts with dual tube night vision goggles
 Biological agents blew Waco Texas
 Dynamite's packed in trunks, alarms on your Lexus
 Suck my dick for real, my 44 mag is steel
 I'll catch you out there, your crew'll have grey hair

 [singing]
 "Super luv, super luv, baby, super luv, superman, superman luv, lois
 lane, superman luv, superman