You Get Yours Kool Keith

Yo Keith, what up? This is DJ Kutmasta Kurt
You know I get about 82 thousand 3 million records in the mail
But now I can only play about 2, what's up with that?

There are 8 billion 2 thousand white black records
They on my scrotum they should be on whack records
I know the industry is wet like a labia
Everybody's crazy, gone hysterical
Def Jam flopped, the whole Epic was a miracle

M.C.'s came psycho, toy like Tyco
Poppin' that weak shit like Myers, you ain't Michael
I left my sons in space behind years ago
Coco puffs, your crew remind me of a Cheerio

You're like a condom, an old piece of dried up sperm
Don't try to mess with me, you rappin' fuckin' germ
M.C.'s come up they call themself now Papa
I'm entertained watchin' prime time do do droppa

You dissed the naked man, you ain't the boss man
I run over panties and heads with a Range Rover
I kidnap Amy, grab my tapes back from Marc Genova
And stick an enema pipe right into Faith Newman
You think I'm Lincoln, Abraham or Harry Truman