| Yo wassup, this is Kool Keith, '96 to 2000
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| I don’t be out there with these little boys tryin' to freestyle — they my sons
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| Freestyles with their whack styles (my styl-oz)
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| But I’m big time, I married your mother, gave you a portion of my skills (so
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| step off)
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| I’m beyond that, kid — your daddy, boy. |
| You’ve been neglected
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| I was yo' father. |
| You jack MC’s — I left yo' brother
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| Y’all, was way too small, remember mommy had your brother
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| You got some rhymes now, and how for y’all forgot yo' daddy?
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| Your mom was pregnant in '86 ridin' in my Caddy
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| I gave her royalties for you, money to feed your crew
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| You were starvin', cryin', diapers, 'I wanna rhyme' (waaaah)
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| Yo' mom was on my back, 'Won't you teach him how to rhyme?'
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| Now you hard as a rock, tough boys, all my sons
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| That’s a shame boys, I bought your last Christmas toys
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| Remember mix, I’m still the best y’all
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| I was potty trainin' with baby doo-doo on your vest
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| Your crew is no test, respect yo' mother, she’s my wife
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| You’re still a toddler, man, whatever, a monkey all your life
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| You don’t want the skill, I spittles on your anal bill
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| I read some prime-time stories that’s more deep than Jack and Jill
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| So come on, I’m not the one stepdad — I’m your real father
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| Your mom is my wife
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| She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
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| Your mom is my wife
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| She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
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| Your mom is my wife
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| She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
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| I’m still big-time, yeah I know in fact, son here’s my autograph
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| You was my favorite kid, I helped you study math
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| Me and yo' mother raise you up in the projects
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| Now you want to battle yo' father and let your skill flex
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| Take your rap out now, comment on yo'
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| Your crew got no chance on the label kickin' crap-rap
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| Look at your groupies, your girlfriends, they on my tip
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| They wanna see your father get loose, your daddy flip
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| I drop more, like Mr. Magic
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| You copy my tapes — my rap style’s still graphic
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| You wonder how I run things from '86 to '96?
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| My daddy’s still in the mix
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| With my mommy they had they 8th baby, my little brother Tommy:
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| 'I can grow up one day with my crew, battle daddy
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| You love my mommy, my newborn baby brother Larry, goo-goo, ga-ga.'
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| Pass them wet Pampers, Ali-Babas
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| Your mom is my wife
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| She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
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| Your mom is my wife
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| She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
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| Your mom is my wife
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| She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
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| Me and yo mom’s still tight, we still together
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| Why is my chain on yo' neck and why you wearin' my leather?
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| 'Yo daddy, I’m hardcore, I’m Russell Simmon’s tour'
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| But I taught you
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| 'You taught me how to rhyme.'
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| What I taught you: off beat and on time
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| You live off me to be the copycat clone-MC
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| I wear disguises now. |
| MC’s don’t know who is me
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| I keep my stylo' with mommy, we on the down-low
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| We on paid vacations in Hawaii, I’m a real pro
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| I hear your whack-style that you think is so superb
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| You need to rip your papers, kick your albums to the curb
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| That’s enough of your bluff like H&R pumpin' stuff
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| I’m your real father, extra biological
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| This gift’s raw for all y’all, psychological
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| Your mom is my wife
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| She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
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| Your mom is my wife
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| She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
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| Your mom is my wife
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| She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)
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| Yeah, my wife forever, as we go to leave this nonsense and walk into our
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| atmosphere
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| She’s my wife. |
| I still love her |