You Get Yours - Kool Keith, Kutmasta Kurt

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

You get yours, cum smeared all in your face

You get yours, tell me how it tastes?

You get yours, cum smeared all in your face

You get yours, tell me how it tastes?

You get yours, cum smeared all in your face

You get yours, tell me how it tastes?

One two, one two copycats sound like my wife

You on my balls kiddie style man sound like Phife

I’m illin' tonight, you see me stand with Suge Knight

You rappers are scared, now wet rectums get tight

You might as well sing a simple song like you’re Brandy

You wanna be down, put panties on I’ll call you Sandy

Like Stu watchin' his back, yo that shit is fine

Hold 'em and piss David Berk wanna blow his mind

Shootin' the jizm, M.C.'s lightin' stinkin' Izm

Awe that stink put that out, man that blunt shit

I’m on some cunnalingus, women know that cunt shit

Gimmick experts your logo’s won’t make it work

As Monica Lynch about the Flinstones

Niggas still lickin' my dick like chicken bones

Who’s on wax with pumps on wack soundtracks?

Lisa Cortez or Ed shoulda called me

Russell and Lyor, Andre know that shit would bore me

Look in your Rolodex Naked Man, I come and flex

Tie up your anus rectum piece, brothers heads are next

Girl rappers lick my ass before they’re most famous

You name 'em all I gave abortions with hangers

Spread 'em easy people, this won’t hurt

You get yours, cum smeared all in your face

You get yours, tell me how it tastes?

You get yours, cum smeared all in your face

You get yours, tell me how it tastes?

You get yours, cum smeared all in your face

You get yours, tell me how it tastes?

You ran to Pete Rock, you ran to Premier

With New York sounds, Professor couldn’t save your career

Watch your ass Ducket, play me out like Dave Gossit

M.C.'s should quit or sign with Tuff City

I left management and Alex, fuckin' tough titty

I went to Hammers house some people didn’t know me

Dave Jacobson was lying, what the fuck he just told me?

Lookin' back at Tom Silverman’s convention

Money was made and counted for, not to mention

Laminates don’t cost much, that shit is cheap

Like nigga’s tryin' front at Jack the Rapper every week

Don’t try that hand shake shit my dick is more legit

You get yours, cum smeared all in your face

You puppets on Jive with budget tryin' a stay alive

Suckin' the dick twice of owner kid Barry Weiss

You like red dirt the two faced alcoholic

You get yours, cum smeared all in your face

You get yours, tell me how it tastes?

You get yours, cum smeared all in your face

You get yours, tell me how it tastes?

You get yours, cum smeared all in your face

You get yours, tell me how it tastes?

Sunday 11:37 pm

Yeah, now that’s what I’m talkin' about

I think I should just take these records

And start an ash tray business

Or maybe I’ll uh just donate 'em to the Goodwill

(Huh, huh)

Atleast it’s a tax write off, aight man, peace