Analog Technics

[a kid] Ay Mister, aren't you a rapper, what's your name? [Keith] Keith Korg, Analog Brothers, get out of here kid [Ice O] Get off the man's dick man [Ice O] Back the fuck up you lil' motherfucker, back the fuck up! [Keith Korg] New York City from cyborg, Keith Korg More flow than the average Joe, get off the stamina Peein off the top of the Empire State Building, urinate on pedestrians Walkin past West 4th Street lesbians 28th Street flashin drivin Dodge dashin free man Sport Superman underoos with a six-pack of O'Douls Move in sparkplugs, come aboard walkin butt naked with gloves Throwin feces at celebrities at the Billboard Awards Make Jerry Springer jump on my balls, take a recess Kunta test stop your region like the X-Men, liberty legion Got you sayin that's it, pull G strings out of old ladies like Angela Bassett Warm up Swanson, jump over 7 foot rappers like David Thompson With a bank shot like Alex English I get distinguished Block rap like Joe C, Merriweather with a brown leather Bald head like Sam {?} from Marquette, drivin a lime green Corvette With a flat butt white girl like Pamela Anderson with a Chia Pet Skatin on feces like Wayne Gretzky, yo forget the jazz and thin drums Don Sylvester coulda killed my feet in Baltimore, Maryland Or on the street standin next to Ben Grimm From the Fantastic Four with a Stetson brim Open your fossils, leave you constipated with bad meals at Roscoe's Keith Korg, from cyborg [Chorus: Ice Oscillator] Now could this be the Analog techniques you heard of Microphone murder, no win, the Ampex spins Now could this be the Analog techniques you heard of Microphone murder, no win, the Technic spins [a kid] Ay, ay Mister, what's your name? Aren't you an Analog Brother? [a kid] C-c can I be down? [Silver Synth] Sil Synth, yo back off kid Now tap into the track enhances, feedback flanges With a 90 percent delay.. delay.. EQ technology in a multi-track recorders projectile For phrases spit at the strike of lightning To power amp rhymeologysts it's, sent to various temporal vortexes Exiting all elements to supplement the decrease in programming By choice, we choose to play Sega Saturn At the roundtable of the time travelling Rolls Royce To represent an ill visual, we select the "gee whiz" factor Interfacing advanced sound links, fully functional hardware Specializing in features simultaneously optical Visually connects the console to poetics on ADAT Combination of analog equipped with a 3-band dynamic playback Engineered by Sil Synth Processing instantaneous controls, spontaneously edits all algorithms And allows the physical antenna to rise like musical steam Scan it to analyze the defrost mode on icicle power cords By amplified the winning conductor of illogical harmonics To scruitinze Sil Synth, the ventriloquist With a hundred watts of phonics, to skip phonetic fact on format zero Eliminating any excess rigidity, the puzzle solver, mainframe a solution Maintain spit range reflections at high resolutions Further disintergrating defractions guaranteed Serialized 20K printouts lifesize Then the endless intelligent autopress simulator {?} itself To walk to the next verse [Keith] Yo, gimme a lil' more of that [a kid] Ay, Sil, can I rap? [Keith Korg] I move the mechanical elements while y'all, light sherm Scope elephants, bacterial feedback, watchin Toto sing in t-backs With fantasies of me hittin tight cracks While Tommy laughs [a kid] Keith, Keith Korg, Keith Korg (alright man go ahead) [a kid] Can I rap? (go ahead) [Odd Oberheim] Step back, into, two inches of steel The only real, that I speak of, on this here Doubling down no dub, first rhyme One take Jake to hear Snake that claim on top Of the universe with the flag saying I brag Kick back and relax, don't lag Might be misconstrued, sometimes make oil like crude And get slick, I'll split your crews Like a pap smear with a 2x4 stick Coming through your galactic, to perspectives not seen before Inside the membrane when the spectrum, insane explodes With supernova power coming to you in the shower The meteorites, splitting your whole world apart as everybody fights For the last bit of barbaric food to eat To relax, pull up my sleeves, and start to rhyme with ease [Keith] Yo we the Analog Brothers kid [Keith] Get out of here white boy, close the door [Keith] Hurry up, security's coming [Chorus] - 4X (with beatdown in the background)