Cold Peein’ On Em Kool Keith

I make you drip-drop and bop, and swing and move your head back
When you're driving your car, you listen close to the star
Rhythm X I funk flock fleet and flowaway
Garbage I throwaway to take it to the pickup truck
Suckas don't give a beep necks don't give a beat
I bet a buck on your wife, I make another hit
Stomp my comp out and swing like yogi berra
Get another buick, a brand new riviera
Green coupe mercedes, a rolls royce maybe
Have madonna on tour with the carriage in my baby
Little Rhythm X first, second Poppa large
If a girl come in third we'll name em' Mary J. Blarge
My funky style, with my funky freaky rhythm
Keep the brothers on the corner with the gossip in the rhythm
I know I'm bad too the bone
I hang alone

CRUSIN IN STYLE, I WANNA FLEX
(COLD PEEIN' ON EM)

Continue I ease back and stretch in my limousine
Look at the corny rappers who're faking and wilin' mean
I know I'm hungry as hell, I hit your barrels
Italian kids, with my tape in they camero's
I'm not down with the ?mirk ,merkts?, the chicken curry
Saving that old cash, they vision blurry
They say who rhythm? who X? he ain't a pop group
But every time I look a wacker rapper drop troop
I funk styles, I make styles, freestyles
I pump styles, I write styles, see styles
I jack styles, prepare em then I hook em up
I'm ?rugged rug? with a pen, then a pad
I make emcees walk up, 'yo keith you bad
I'll give you my girl for every rhyme in the world'
One million, two million, three million, four
I move and take the money with his girl through the door