Rubba Love - Kool Keith, Kutmasta Kurt

Yeah, check it out

Kool Keith is back y’all

Big Wille, Papa Large, kickin' the funk for you

Jealous people out there, check it out

I see you moving your feet, bopin' ya head

Noddin' ya head, dropin' ya head

The sounds of the phantom, kickin' on the dance floor

You move and boogie more

I represent for the world like the president

Strong as a bag of dust, style like and elephant

No rapper out there, MC’s on my public hair

Girls stare, section 8, I’m on welfare

Collectin' papes and hearing whack city tapes

You in the fruit crew rappin' with a bunch of grapes

I see MC’s on videos and the music box

That story’s weak that your mean and you’re bustin' Glocks

You’re just an old stone kid, pebble throwin' rocks

I’d rather drive and ooh with your girl friend

Your man is ugly the kid look like Gentle Ben

Don’t get hype 'cause your style man ain’t my type

You better step off I see it in your eye

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Back again my friend, I drop you spin the record

One stations' confused and the others can’t check it

You playin' stuff to me that sounds local

I didn’t even hear it down south in Acapulco

I write national you play it for the whole world

Brothers with the perm and girls with the Jheri Curl

So many rapper, I have to call Sandman

Do, do in the pollo and everybody’s whack, man

I watch BET and MTV

Around the globe all the girls wanna see me

I’m in your club tonight, I can wear a suit

With my man Malik, L.O., spendin' mega loot

My pockets fat, my Caddy with a diamondback

Mature honey’s get wet, wanna hit the sack

I count 10 though and throw it on a Coup De Ville

I’m up in Burbank with acres out in Cherry Hill

I’m livin' stupid and people think I’m Bob Barker

With my food stamps, I’m home watchin' Archie Bunker

My neighbor’s nosy that old lady Rosie

Sucka’s in the musical biz think they know me

They buyin' charts and flicks in the Billboard

Can’t rap for crap with nerve to hold a mic chord

I cut radio waves with a Zoro Sword

You think I’m small lady in the red Ford

You in the mirror lookin' in my face

Ah ha, so that’s how it is?

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Third and Lex I fix my radio a sudden change

That R&B live band with singers sounds strange

Everybody’s a fool if you think it’s cool

Sittin' with Ex-Lax on the potty stool

I got tissue for you in the projects

Playin' the bomb drinkin' Balantine X

I see brothers in cars pump they Alpine

They bought Snoop Dog and want a free tape of mine

Shame on you baby paw you so cheap

I hop in a Cadillac and drive up the street

I see my man, my tape he bought in his hand

He got green stacks and props in a rubber band

I’m on the wheel side drivin' on the left side

Checkin' out honey dips and freaks on the westside

I got big blow and all sorts of Bubble Yum

Bad breath kids step, rappers need chewing gum

I’m like De La, droppin' kickin' more soul

Sounds are new and they drum machines sound old

Lyrical dummies, I make 'em turn do a summy

Girls surprised I’m black and I’m not bummy

I ride the train and still flip out on your brain

I move your dome to a lot lift it with a crane

You on my D head get back off my chisel

Chic a chic, ah wee

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Don’t get jealous your heart pumps rubba love, rubba love

Yeah this goes out to all the people in the world

Who are still jealous

Jealous of the next man, jealous of the next girl

That’s right, still jealous, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha