Featuring Kool Keith [Kool Keith] Yeah whassup T Love A lot of brothers be freestylin (right) Blowin smoke at your clothes Girls be out there with weaves with Glue in they scalps tryin to get loose But it's time to drop gooses! (true dat) YouknowhatI'msayin?
"T hit it off!"
[T Love] There's a lot of girls rhymin on the mic with no direction Don't know why they flexin forgot rules and lessons The essence: beats and rhymes and shit I'm about to show these bitches that I'll die for this With more than the skills to pay the bills at ?, I rock it Nobody knows my name, at least I'm hittin pocket <>It's been a while.. "been-been-a, been-a, been a long time" - Ra Yeah, it's been a long time since B-Girls got down Now I be, mannered like Janet, Jack-me when I'm not lookin Cause iffin I'm lookin, then you get YO' shit tooken A hundred degrees of heat, under emcees who sleep-walkin In some bibles since the age of three See I be a rap editor, rhymer et cetera To the letter or competitor, not in it for the cheddar A calligraphist, envisionist Yeah it's been a long time but I'm back to make a diff'
Chorus: Kool Keith
That girl is wack.. That kid is wack.. That producer's wack.. Your whole family's wack.. "So wack that it's bound to show"
[Kool Keith] I'm systematic, graphic, outspoken, master past a certain MC Abilities of enemies, construct nine million quitrillion Makes a brother brilliant, strong like Einstein I find the underlying, words with verbs herb Make me famous when I pull up on your anus It's disaster for the tri-state actor, in a circle like Urkel Yo T-Love, these assholes are dirt specks on my rugs Smokin blunts with stomach pumps Pick up the mic, your crew'll only rhyme once For the budget, 70,000 Monopoly money With a wack producer, usin Sonny Spitz You on that "Keep it Real" list, you're broke You're name is Captain Provoke, better know you ain't Never eatin Tony Rhomes, files of culture I'm still dope Even not with Ultra -- back you saved this from Casio samples I'm raw like green apples Fly smooth, I ain't got nuttin to prove Your album has been out for forever You didn't even go plether Plastic was your quota, Mr. Spiritual Philosopher Prepare for your release for foul speech You weak, like Cream of Wheat I step to you and blow out assholes like Miami Heat Yo, take off those boots, it's ninety-five degrees out here It's fuckin hot
"So wack that it's bound to show"
Chorus
[T-Love] Return of the B-Girl promises Nothing less, than spectacular, with vernacular Peep how T mackin the verb Like hoes strollin, on Pharoah, I'm givin you the narrow The L-Down, I mean the skinny, this Pickaninny Went to rock battle, while she rides up to Denny's Nah I ain't really tryin to diss nobody But old school B-Girls swore in the Goddess In studded Gazelles, they did windmills West had on the Pumas, East had on the Shells
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