Raise It Up

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 "What's up, with UltraMagnetic?

Yo they sound kind of crazy, Kool Keith is a psycho

Ced G is a scientist, the lyrics are hyper"

Creating a fusion, of sampling hits

We all came down just to be distinctive

Some rappers complex, but they can't see the music

We show orchestration, and with funky prevention

It was different and black, and it caused devestation

Gotta new bag, signed a deal with Wild Pitch

Now we're back on the street, with the flavor you missed

So get with the program, Ultra hot off your real high

I know I'm a real pro, like Michigan Fab 5

Runnin and shootin, for me alley-oopin

Is makin an album, with big distribution

Promote it and hype it, make up posters then snipe it

Raise it up!

Chorus

Interlude: Announcer

Ladies and gentlemen, live from Flatbush Brooklyn

I bring to you tonight, the Godfather Don

From the Orphans...

("Hit it!")

Verse Three: Godfather Don

Lookin down the barrel of a gun is no fun

So for some, I rum-pum-pum and flip, like a tongue

of young dragon, with the force and ten sacks of buddah

To wax a crew of jacks and looters, even your hoe I shoot her

In the face, with the mother-uffin bass

Now taste the venom of the ish that I sent em

And foes, that doze, I chew em like gristle

Wipe my mouth with tissue, there's no issue

I'm first print, mint, check the wizard

The force of my blast, blow em like a Tec in a blizzard

Now what is it? Exquisite physics to stain your brain

When they visit cardiovascular masterer, words are massacred damn

I got beats rhymes tanks gats includin Ultra

Check the loop, snoop low we do ya like a vulture

Back in the days, there was just beef and knuckles

Nowadays, a beatdown consists of some clips

My oowop, rips with abandon at random

Whiff, you be ghost, like Michael Landon

When I bust amazing nuts you play the cut

The Father's Ultra paid, I raise it... up

Chorus: repeat 2X