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    Masters Of Illusion / Lyrics

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    "Souped Up" Lyrics

    Masters Of Illusion

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    Man, I turn on the TV man
    I was in the mall, one of the rappers I seen
    Up at the mall wearin' the gold chains, one of the guys from BET
    Man them boys is souped up, just
    I walked up to one with my wife, asked for an autograph
    He turned his back to me
    Because I am so cool!

    I waste no time tellin' you in front of your ugly girlfriend you can't rhyme
    Smack your engineer with a tall can of Olde English beer
    Urinate on your S-S-L board and your lyrics sheet
    Defecate in the hood at your store for leavin' your fans
    Butt-naked with a box of Pampers in the middle of the street
    Blow your socks off, send the girls you take to exquisite restaurants
    To Pink Hot Dog, exclusive company just miss the masses
    Talk to white girls with flat stomachs, no stretch marks, with black girl asses
    Upscale extravagant, no autographs
    Tell the Backstreet Boys I'm arrogant
    Lady singers and rappers, I'm Keith Livingston your lawyer, I'm gonna work you
    My job is to give you a Benz, close your publishing deal while I jerk you
    The contract's ready, you already signed the first two
    Your butt crack is I'ma put you on Rap City with Tigger and hurt you
    Nothin' to reimburse you, my voodoo curse you
    Anything that come out I will alert you
    Turn your ass around like a marble head baby and burp you
    Smack you, beat you with a telephone cord, I can reach you
    All I hear is "yo stop Keith, stop it Keith"

    [Chorus: x2]
    Arrogant, autographs, them ni'az can't sign them?
    Souped up, souped up
    While I stay in demand, your naked wife knows I'm cocky
    Souped up, souped up

    Yo I drop in butt wipe, doodoo Charmin under pillows

    That dude who fairyland turd drop with big words
    Expose my other self, drippin' off the bedspread
    Stank bed, you smell 'em in your head, screamin'
    When you wake up cause it's obvious, I'm really really really funky
    Typical Motion tantalizing, climbing up the track
    The jock's on, rappers watch me in the field shakin' pom poms
    I got a whole section of 'em loaded
    Bowl reflectin' to the rhyme I wrote it
    Like Dr. Dooom, sandwich up the rotor, no appetizer
    Just a full course meal fillin' statements from the Motionizer
    Gorilla grip, I grab rappers by they dry lips
    Straight thug a bear hug Grizzly Adams couldn't tame
    Wild from Animal Bill, also precise
    Yo mami cosi en carne, yo papi usted why spice
    'Cause I been spyin' on her, extremely relyin' on her
    Your sister too, now what you want to do? (You want to do)
    I fuck a n'ia like Chitty, Ohana too, followed you
    In the air like a molecule
    The standard prototype, explicit rap extreme and souped up

    [Chorus: x2]

    'Cause I am so cool
    This song was submitted on October 18th, 2016.
    Thanks to Snap for the contribution to this song.
    Copyright with Lyrics © THE BICYCLE MUSIC COMPANY.
    Written by Keith Thornton, Kurt Matlin, Paul Laster.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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