[Kool Keith:]

(Everybody know that) the lyrical king

(Everybody know that) lyrical king

(Everybody know that shit) the lyrical king

(Everybody know that) lyrical king

(Everybody know that)



Little kids get scared

I smack the shit out of a monster when I devour

That's why I shit on Austin Powers

Watch niggaz get souped up and comfortable like the Plymouth Prowler

No homerun bastards, I line up everybody like a fouler

Like they mix baking soda and pasta

Only thing these motherfuckers touch, is Tide and soap powder

(Fuckin soap powder!) Microphone perpetration I see through

I want my vocals up louder

Bitch I write some verses with high octane curses

Popeye and Kentuck' sponsor

I turned down deals with Church's

Y'all fucked up cause the Colonel made the purchase

I can't no longer support 50 thousand MC's, homeless and worthless

The shit department, I thought you was a delivery

Packagin, I put you in charge, alright supervisin piss

My messages get across state to state when I shift doo-doo

out on freight, I take a break

Laugh at you assholes, with club soda and lemon cake

Listen close, examine is that the star flow?

While you talkin baboon shit on the radio

I cancelled seein ducks at the magic show

I know some Mexicans that shit through, the custom sunroof

Butt-naked in Barstow

With bloodhounds on the back of the graffiti Air Force Nikes

That bark low, remember you fuckin with somebody pro

I shake the piss off my dick, on your album intro

Next time you tell the engineer to bring it in slow

Toy-ass niggaz, I been past niggaz

Test crash dummies, I know people that work with these, crash niggaz

For the last 6,008 months I've been hearin trash niggaz

With fucked up paparazzis

That think they clownin big-head motherfuckers

Hot vaginas under they crotch

I like when they bullshit on the mic, and play hopscotch

Touch the controls, adjust your platinum and gold

Put the coke all up in your fuckin nose

Don't sleep you better take that No-Doz

Ain't no motherfucker pushin kilos

Ask the motherfucker next to you, he knows

Raggy-aggy, wear your pants baggy

In front of your used Jaggy

You ain't 24 track you still macky

Opposite dress that's tacky

Y'all fuckin with Jonathan Braggy

Basket of bread you grabby

Your fuckin sides are overweight, can't come in here lookin stupid and flabby



LYRICAL KING~! (lyrical king)

LYRICAL KING~! (y'all know, lyrical king)

LYRICAL KING~! Motherfuck it



[voice lowered:]

Lyrical king

You know the lyrical king when you see him

I don't have to reveal myself to motherfuckers nowhere ever

When I walk in the room, you rip your motherfuckin papers up

You shut the studio time down

You get that motherfucker out the booth

You tell that nigga he's whack

You let motherfuckers know, who's in the motherfuckin back

You serve that coffee, you serve that tea

You let a motherfucker know he's comin out the fuckin teepee

Fuck you motherfuckers, and all you whack-ass motherfuckers

You know who the motherfuckin lyrical, motherfuckin king is!

Suck the dillz