Texty: Project Polaroid. Feel Me.

:
(feat. Roughneck Jihad)

[Kool Keith:]
Executive chess
I play against a well trained animal, you move next
Stylist got you dress, like you comin in from Budapest
Lookin like Burt Lancaster
You slow to circle down backwards like a old lady drivin a steering wheel
When Dr. Martin choose 'em they probably diss the suits
I wish the competition create somethin new faster
Believe me, you'll find that place on Aster
The heavy and the deep sustain
I Kodak freeze your frame, pee on your righthand pinky rang
Stop you while you recording nonsense insult your character
Make you rewrite the whole thang
Reject the pie in the studio your mother bring
Show you gorillas when Rodney's not here
It depends on how many Burgers you produce, before I let you be King
Feel the snap of the yellowjack', bee sting with guaze pads
On your baggage claim bags, any object in my way who brags
Sit on top of feminine, deoderant protective rags
Y'all face the awards on the podiums, thankin everyone who made you
Don't forget your girlfriend, weightliftin boyfriend's bonin him
The extra

[Roughneck Jihad:]
It's Jahizzle your nizzle, tough as gristle epistle like
Fall from tossin Soviet hammer and the sickle
Red dyke but doper infant, I invent communistic
Fried drum chum or high jazz biscuits wicked
I picket bigots and I boycott the bigamist
My Johnson, TV dinner Swanson, good light licorice
Suckers on my shitlist, are so shiftless
Stick out like an ishthmus
I lob globs of mucus on snobs whose jobs make 'em listless
The effigy in lethargy, my weaponry the Christmas
I crackle like a cracker crumble in your mouth
Call him hairy dissentary, bloody's how he's comin out
And my crew are thick as Chuck Norris chest mayne
Let's burn this pyre higher, throw your rhymes on the death flame
To dunk I jump off two feet, J Rich, Dominique
Players who push off on ass cheeks like Jordan are so weak
They cheat, no jumpman for me, no 23 jersey
Rhyme nerdy, lines dirty, I hurry, not girly MC's curtsey
I'm so merciless I show no mercy
I'm just like Percival my body's so sturdy
My rhymes are dirty, get up early
MC's have Hasidic forelocks like Shirley
Temple...

[Kool Keith:]
They choose a foul like Sam
Gettin hyped up with a 2-piece, all sniffed up to the bone
The city fall for the biblery fast
Duplicates, DJ's people follow 'em, I ignore the imitation replicas
They think they Larry Graham
These dudes are messed up in the mind of high on ham
With DJ's testin racks, ears out with new radio programme
Scientific defects bounced off the walls in the projects
It kills me, when evil stays 24 hours
Everybody who's a demon hang they coats on the rack
After companies made billions off of Biggie Smalls and 2Pac prototypes
People wanna remove the devil horns off the top of they head
Move into conscious rap
And stab you while you not lookin right in the back
Rob you again, show you the floorplan
of the commercial map, MC's linin up from the circus need to be slapped
I'ma tell my truth like an Israelite
A 45th Street guard strike you with the thunder, when lightning speak
What the parasites move out this week