Artist: Ultra Album: Big Time Song: Super Luv Typed by: email@example.com [Tamika Jones] "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."