Motel 6 Super 8 - Kool Keith

I’ma be all up in your face

Yo, I’ma tell you, I don’t wanna hear what you got to say

'Gwan from here, forget the all-star game

Light your ass man with flame, urinate in the brain

Ladies react move with panties off with the prawns

Imposter from the Barbados

Private jets shock your island

40 oz.

undercover with a cashmere

Your fake Gucci glasses, your jacket’s made out of reindeer

Jealous, I know you act like you don’t hear

Top controller, winey waste

I’m not impressed, beyond your fat stomach

Twist your tiny waist

Jacket and juice leave your bad mouth with a bad taste

We keep it clean, no passin gas or sardines in here

No girls with a lack of hygeine with sardines in here

Yo, you know Garland, open the roof, crack the beer

It’s apparent, tell no shame in here

Everybody know the game in here

Know you playin in here, what you sayin in here

You’re playin here

Like Free and Mary J. Blige, AJ look like the Predator

#1 with the tec-9 in the duffel bag, I’m your competitor

Bounty catcher master, you face me in America

You know you guys rhymin little gay for commercial

Deep in the industry, the anal crevices

Y’all date men, your bodyguards too busy datin trends

The kid on the mic, your hype man goes the other way

Santa Monica butt boys

Fly your girls in from Chicago, Illanois

Ask the judge right here, don’t budge right here

Y’all light in the ass, featherweight, fly your kite here

Bird figures, y’all ain’t all that, don’t let me reveal you

Cap peel you, top of the mansion butt boys

Earnin for girls, y’all strut boys

Play your right hand side with Tonka toys

Walkin back and forth like Enoch against your crew

Sayin crush, kill, destroy

Asian girls relax on Soul Train, you’re stiff

Eat your bok choi

Special effects make most of your average rappers with pastel colors

Wallpaper in your background, I P-I-S-S on you

Game benefits, collect C-I-S-S on you

Don’t need one mic there, I’d rather vomit on two

People suck!

Are you down?

I’m in your area

You bad, the more the merrier

Santa Claus, put flammable fluid to your claws

I break all sissy laws

Treat you like a prosti’on Sunset, you bet

I know you’re in the back of the aisle, your girdle’s wet

You got the nerve to move and listen to Keitho Sweat

Look around yo You’re like the girl who used to sing a long time in Florida

I call you Anquette