Bust the Facts

A yes yes y'all, and you don't stop You're listening to the sounds of the best MC in the world, Kool Keith I got a flyer in my hand, Bambaataa with Cold Crush The place is packed, with Johnny Wa and Rayvon Lovely ladies smelling sweet with a lot of Avon Jazzy Jay by my side, Charlie Chase behind me Flash and Theodore, super cuts that blind me "Catch a Groove" is the rhythm, spinning back and forth From the East and the Valley, swinging back up North Towards the South Bronx, to Cedar Park and Webster The speakers are pumping, power bass is thumping With the Ultra mega amp, keeping pep up jumping From side to side, the double meters have peaked They had some good MC's, a lot of them they was weak They had no style with no metaphor, no voice to speak Melle Mel had the best rhymes, ranking with Caz Kool Moe tried to get down, but I made him sit down With that metaphor quickness, you bite and you bit this Stop and go turn, see the flame and go burn To ashes to ashes, dust to dust Seven years later toy you still crusty crust Your old rhymes are rust, very dirty and dusty And under your arms you're kicking power and musty Get out of my way, and let the rhythm path roll Let me run up the charts, freak a rhyme turn gold While you're listening, I throw a buzz in your ear Bust the facts! Go swing a partner around, dosey-dosey Like musical chairs and ring around the rosie The party you pay see, Kool Herc with Jay Cee The Herculoids battle, The Disco Twins Funky rhymes with breakbeats, the DJ spins For the L Brothers, stepping right in the scene Mean Gene was maxing, Rockin Rob went to work While the tables would turn, the old needles used to jerk With the belt drive, Technics and B-1's With the orange light shining, the red on D-1's Direct drive and Nova, I'm chilling with G.L.O.B.E Mr. Biggs and Pow-Wow, Monk and Superman Pulling out that Olde E, that funky funky 40 ounce Ikey C from Cosmic, the bass bottom bounce Red Alert in the booth, the T-Connection to mix Silly rabbit.. you know my style has tricks To go on, to the next line, to the break of dawn While I move up step, to the early early morn With a hip-hop drink and some rhyme popcorn Never smoking or sniffing or ever joking or riffing Because it's time to plex more, and rhyme fantastic Dota-Rock and Whipper Whip, neither rapper was plastic Back in the days, you had to be so sarcastic To stretch out a rhyme, and make it double elastic You learn new jack, step back and be wack You know what time it is boy, and every mic I smoke Bust the facts! Later on at the Boys Club, while time excel I got a name for your brain that surely rings a bell Patti Duke had the nice hands, swift with Billy Boy Playing James Brown records, you stupid you silly boy Bongo Rocking, hard where the rhythm go You fake and pass, Busy Bee give and go To the AJ Skratch, a funky beat that matched With a two-second break, that was hard to catch DST was mixing, slicing with his elbows Freaking the wheels, looping rhymes, here we go To the master faster, speed up and go faster Turn my JVC to mega power and blast a Mario tape, yes The Disco King Where the beats had the funky drums, no new jack swing Happy rappers with polka dots, were bound to get stuck You had the Zulus the Nine Crew, you're pushing your luck The Casanovas was maxing all scheming to duck You had The Black Spades, plus The Savage Skulls Gangbanging was over, neither crews exist They got a job and a wife, a pretty woman to kiss So on the rhymes kept rolling, straight up into disco Eddie Cheeba with Sweet G, and back up to Cisco Afrika Islam, with the Great Love Squids Spinning high-top beats, can you check it, you dig Kool Keith out smoking, my lyrics are hot Bust the facts!