Critical Beatdown

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 emcees 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 roasting emcees

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

I'm attacking them, my job is stacking them

For every rapper, must I be smackin' them

Once or twice in the face

With rough beats producing the bass

That blow out 'cause power to go out

Inner spark, I'm ready to blow out

Like this, altitude level

Reachin' forth, stomping every devil

In sight, you might just wanna bite

My illusions, mental confusions

You're a mark, skulls I've been abusing

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

Speaking, going ear-to-ear

Places far, ducks would appear

For the countdown, so you wait to rhyme

And twist, stuttering, uttering

Parkay margarine, everything butter

And another thing, you shoulda been a Muppet

A toy boy, a thin string 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

Here's the K, combine 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 disappointing my fans

You on reverb and talking through cans

Hello, how are you doin'?

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 dungee

Roll the sess, the Buddha with the ganji

Puff up, while I make tough stuff up

I'm Kool Keith, cold rippin' emcees

I'm hype for the critical beatdown