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    Ultra / Lyrics

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    "Super Luv" Lyrics

    Ultra

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    Duration:00:03:36
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    Lyrics

    Tamika Jones]

    "Yo, what's up I'm Tamika Jones from 'Keep it Real' Magazine, and I'm
    about to enter the minds of two of the most controversial rappers of
    one of the most underrated rap groups of all time, the Ultramagnetic
    MC's. First, Kool Keith, why in your songs do you always refer to the
    words anal and rectum? And why do you always use the words doo-doo and
    pee-pee?"

    [Kool Keith]

    "Because that's what the whole fucking rap industry is.
    Besides, I have other words like gorilla, parakeet, giraffe,and
    also.....monkey"

    Your crew got high blood pressure, you still bite on pork chops
    As I strike in your area, shut down close your shops
    Your style is greasy, so what your hair is nappy peasy
    I wet your brain and tie your penis to the two train
    Drag you down the tracks, spray paint like artifacts
    With the rest of your crew, tied and smeared with dog doo-doo
    You know my trash bags are packed, lick my nut sacs
    Emcees are still wack, on the new smell like mildew
    When you rhyme the mic steps from the socket and
    You could never be classic, your rappin skill's plastic
    Gimmicks is your plan, strategy is stop your marketing
    All that hard and mean look I'll get your ass kicked
    Your steelo's undercover, corny on the real brother
    Pistol whupped like a bitch, get smacked by your pimp
    Keep that mop down, just like your album sound
    So save that cartoon shit for Saturday
    Everything is booty
    You flop, no niggas bound to make my head bop
    Don't fuck with me
    Between your legs you sport a cootie
    [Tamika Jones]

    explain this to me?"
    "Holy anal catastrophe Kool Keith, that's fucking amazing! But I think
    your fans will want to know how you'll accomplish this. Can you
    [Kool Keith]

    With the A1 6600 phone detector
    Y'all can't tap my shit, eavesdropping in the projects
    Missiles dropped, your narrow hard times stories flop
    Hush town, your staircase becomes a mental town
    I'll throw grenades and blow your rectum out your fucking block
    Your elevator stopped, your bubblegum sitting below
    Cover your peephole, wires reach bombs in your window
    I thought so, your verbal shit wasn't fucking pro
    Go flush your toilet, crack the bowl, see the fucking bomb
    Iranian arab with muslim bells on my face
    Three seconds flat your fucking chest splatters in your palm
    Skeleton bones, I stash bazookas in the chicken place
    Uptown bronx with cheese traps for you fucking mouse
    My helmet's from haiti, infrared's at my house
    Federal tax bullshit I light your real estate
    Suck my nuts with dual tube night vision goggles
    Raw in to stop (?), your asshole's tied to a milk crate
    Biological agents blew Waco Texas
    Dynamite's packed in trunks, alarms on your Lexus
    Suck my dick for real, my 44 mag is steel
    I'll catch you out there, your crew'll have grey hair

    [singing]
    "Super luv, super luv, baby, super luv, superman, superman luv, lois
    lane, superman luv, superman
    This song was submitted on March 17th, 2011 and last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © THE BICYCLE MUSIC COMPANY.
    Written by Keith Thornton, Kurt Matlin.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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