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Artist: Masters of Illusion
Album:  Kutmasta Kurt presents Masters of Illusion
Song:   Souped Up
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash

[Kool Keith]
Man, I turn on the TV man
I was in the mall, one of the rappers I seen
up at the mall wearin the gold chains, one of the guys from BET
Man them boys is souped up, just
I walked up to one with my wife, asked for an autograph
He turned his back to me {*scratch: "Because I am so cool!"*}

I waste no time tellin you in front of your ugly girlfriend you can't rhyme
Smack your engineer with a tall can of Olde English beer
Urinate on your SSL board and your lyrics sheet
Defecate in the hood at your store for leavin your fans
butt-naked with a box of Pampers in the middle of the street
Blow your socks off, send the girls you take to exquisite resteraunts
to Pink Hot Dog, exclusive company just miss the masses
Talk to white girls with flat stomachs, no stretch marks, with black girl asses
Upscale extravagant, no autographs
Tell the Backstreet Boys I'm arrogant
Lady singers and rappers, I'm Keith Livingston your lawyer, I'm gonna work you
My job is to give you a Benz, close your publishing deal while I jerk you
The contract's ready, you already signed the first two
Your buttcrack is I'ma put you on Rap City with Tigger and hurt you
Nothin to reimburse you, my voodoo curse you
Anything that come out I will alert you
Turn your ass around like a marble head baby and burp you
Smack you, beat you with a telephone cord, I can reach you
All I hear is "yo stop Keith, stop it Keith"

[Chorus 2X: MOI]
[K] Arrogant, autographs, them ni'az can't sign them?
Souped up, souped up
[M] While I stay in demand, your naked wife knows I'm cocky
Souped up, souped up

[Motion Man - instead of last line]
Yo I drop in buttwipe, doodoo Charmin under pillows

That dude who fairyland turd drop with big words
Expose my other self, drippin off the bedspread
Stank bed, you smell 'em in your head, screamin
when you wake up cause it's obvious, I'm really really really funky
Typical Motion tantalizing, climbing up the track
The jock's on, rappers watch me in the field shakin pom poms
I got a whole section of 'em loaded
Bowl reflectin to the rhyme I wrote it
Like Dr. Dooom, sandwich up the rotor, no appetizer
Just a full course meal fillin statements from the Motionizer
Gorilla grip, I grab rappers by they dry lips
Straight thug a bear hug Grizzly Adams couldn't tame
Wild from Animal Bill, also precise
Yo mami cosi en carne, yo papi usted Y spice
Cause I been spyin on her, extremely relyin on her
Your sister too, now whatchu wanna do?  (You wanna do)
I fuck a n'ia like Chitty, Ohana too, followed you
In the air like a molecule
The standard prototype, explicit rap extreme and souped up


{*scratched: "Cause I am so cool"*}