Текст (слова) песни: Masters of Illusion - Back Up Kid

 
The electricity shall now be passed through your body 
until you are dead {*sounds of an electric chair*} 
 
[Chorus: Kool Keith] 
Back up kid, 40 billion hundred power watts 
Back up kid, 40 billion hundred power 
Back up kid, 40 billion hundred power watts 
Back up kid, 40 billion hundred power 
 
[Kool Keith] 
You on my pubic, I tell you kid, that`s on my testicles 
I slice that style up like big {?} and vegetables 
You know I`m legend though you clown man stiff and blow 
I got the big stage, no props for yo` small show 
I light your anus up, pee upon your whole spectrum 
Then damage all butt with missiles to your girl`s rectum 
No matter how where, with activator on your hair 
You could be weaved up, toes to your sleeve up 
ADAT`s work you got static, turn your Nieve up 
You on 4-track, tic-tac, I still wipe buttcrack 
Battle me now your cornflake style, chocolate cow 
You no test catnip slop runnin down your vest 
Master of what, your kitty styles fall butt 
Incest, you settle for less 
Yo lick my wee-wee, your sister tried to watch me pee-pee 
On New Year`s, panties down, drunk drinkin beers 
You get asked up, records get faxed up 
Your booty get torn your heiny`s all waxed up 
 
[Chorus] - 2X 
 
[Kool Keith] 
I see MC`s waste time and vinyl, your point is final 
You trapped in the cage and now pregnant by a green rhino 
Lubriderm is `pon the cage it`s still Octagon 
Your girl in tights, panties made of chiffon 
Like Ted Bundy and Kemper, I burn your wig this winter 
No matter how hard you are, I still paint that back 
Then draw some pictures of Space Ghost on yo` asscrack 
With Scooby Doo, Fred and Wilma watchin Dino doo-doo 
Your style is no flake, them beige boots are kinda weak 
You suck nuts and lick my balls everytime I speak 
You at the Apollo, you wack easy act to follow 
You get no props, for skirts suckin Charms pops 
You on my penis, still wearin shell-toe Adidas 
I`m in your building, like paint chips off your ceiling 
Fake face, yo pack up, start watchin Scarface 
I strike your tour bus, catch you naked smokin dust 
Rip your papers at halftime, your rented rhymes are rust 
You got no wins, for crabs in your used Benz 
Extra mic stands for Taco Bell burns yo` friends 
Louisiana hot sauce, tops your anus boss 
Gorilla Magilla, he`s in the window 
Your style is for sale, sperm drippin off your pillow 
 
[Chorus] - 2X 
 
{*"back" - scratched before end*}
 

Другие песни Masters of Illusion :

Back Up Kid
The Bay-Bronx Bridge