Artist: Ultramagnetic MC's Album: Critical Beatdown Song: Critical Beatdown Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash [Kool Keith] Well I'm the equalizer, known to be graphic I clear static, breakin up traffic Move, while I enter the groove I'm on top, and happy to prove to wack MC's who claim to be better than No way I'm frankly more clever than all of you, each and every one, my son Pay close attention I take your brain to another dimension Hold it, mold it, shape it You got a knife, yes I wanna scrape it up and down, sideways, any way I can be rude to you But I'll rap and be crude to you And eat up, toy ducks I beat up I am the oven your brains I wanna heat up Mega, supersonic degrees I come around, roastin MC's with fire, to burn the toy liar Raw meat, turn the flame higher Cook it, like a fish I'll hook it For any beat, it's time that I took it right, correctly to the top with the rhythm and as your head bop I'm hype, for the critical beatdown! [Ced Gee] I'm attacking them, my job is stacking them For every rapper, must I be smacking them once, or twice in the face With rough beats, producin the bass that blow out, cause power to go out Inner spark, I'm ready to blow out like this, altitude level Reachin forth, stompin every devil in sight, you might just wanna bite My illusions, mental confusions You're a mark, skulls I've been abusin Losin, any rapper who follow me Your girl loves me, now she wanna swallow me Back up, move on to the rear When I'm on the stage should be clear Speakin, goin ear to ear Places far, ducks would appear for the countdown, so you wait to rhyme and twist, stuttering, uttering Parkay, margerine, everything butter and another thing, you shoulda been a Muppet A toy boy, a fake scream puppet I'm takin titles, and punks better up it to me, Ced Gee on the mic, and I'm hype for the critical beatdown! [Kool Keith] Here's the K, combined the double-O Swing in the L, I'm ready to go as Keith, Rap General Chief Executive plus exquisitive Mandatory, capital statements I am the teacher, preaching what makes sense Class, you wasn't able to pass For any germ or lice who come last I'm boric, high computing acid Get off the mic and won't you please pass it to me, for a one-two check Give me a pound and lots of respect No hands, you dissapointing my fans You on reverb, and talking to cans Hello - how are you doing? I come to wreck, and parties I'll ruin with rhymes, pumpin up smoke Diesel advances makin them choke and cough up, the hard-headed I'll soften spongee, then after that drink a ? Roll the sess, the buddha with the ganji Puff up, while I make tough stuff up I'm Kool Keith, cold rippin MC's I'm hype - for the critical beatdown!