Yeah, Bronx, New York City!
Kool Keith
Nobody can't see me no more, or be me no more
The latest rapper who is it, I don't even watch TV no more
Just 16 points a night, Atlanta Hawk cheerleaders, clap when I score
My urination bounce off the basketball floor
My texture is tight, wipe my ass on the fiberglass
Top draft pick, I'm up in here, you know it homes
Compare me to Sean Puffy Combs
The New Jersey Nets won't ignore the bassline dunk
C'mon, jump
Shocked the V.I.P. section
My sneaker prints, show on the backboards with affection
Top to bottom I got 'em
Keep on jumpin, girls keep pumpin {*repeat 3X*}
No tipperillos, ingredients better, the pie roaster
You must be smokin dust, pull up on you like Doug Collins
Albert and Bernards, I burn hard
Can't stop me the show is not finish
You saw what happened to Steven Houston, like Ron Artest
Rookies comin against ya, is only gonna play 3 minutes
My team form in the corner, better than Carmello's jumper
Your wife watchin me in mid-air, then I'm on fan
Don't hate me, you hate Bryan Pumper
The underhand fingerroll, when he walked off the court
Not impressed with the kicks, who designed the sole
My bottom feet stay on the shoulders of Manute Bol
I'm worst against the clock
Go tell Pee Wee, I'm the best on your block
Top to bottom I got 'em
My inside game is hard to rub next to the boards
My lyrics flow, next to yours
Your turnaround is lame, my fadeaway is spectacular
Confront TNT, the show with Charles Barkley
My simple lay-up looks 10 times better than yours
You better on the floors
Your mixtape, I call your DJ pause
You know the flower