Yeah... yo Don, gimme a little bit of that chicken
That smooth chicken, a little bit of that gravy
And I want some... old hot jazz biscuits
With a little bit of that blues butter
Bring in the snare
Verse One: Kool Keith
They never understood, many people were so slow
My funky type of rhyme, and my style is pyscho
Complex wrecks wrecks, my style go X X
I move around off beat, creatin more styles
Showin white boys, other kids my black styles
I kick lyrics like shoes right in your face
Walk up on a carJack of Spades, pluck the ace
I get slow-er, down in, on in
Flowin like I used to be on Critical Beatdown
I drop styles on ears the public bite em
Not many went to school, so the dummies wouldn`t write em
They say yo Keith, yo Kool, you usin big words
I went to college, I`m even more stupid herb
Back on the scene to put a lesson out
Even if I have to pull a black Smith and Wesson out
I grab a hammer stick a nail in that little crack
Tame the monkey show the hummingbird how to act
I get atomic, hypo-galactical
Word to mom I`m in my own world
Galaxy raised! Powerful
Chorus:
Raise it up (8X)
Verse Two: Ced G
Yo, yo money grip money grip, now this ain`t no ego trip
Yo money grip money grip, now this ain`t no ego trip
Now back in the days and we used to use elevation
And then the people said Send " Raise It Up" Ringtone to your Cell