Ultramagnetic MC’s - Talkin Out Ya Ass lyrics

A lot of rappers ain't shit
They just bullshit
They wanna step on stage and
Pop piles of shit
But, I ain't with it, so black quit it
Who pulled the plug? you know I did it
Cause you sound whack and
Fucked up with no class but, I get deeper
Stick a rhyme up in yo' ass
Light up your inner skull
And burn up your rectum
MC's are doo doo I never did respect 'em
Fuck 'em, like a bitch with no drawers on
So you want a tape, stupid-ass with pause on
Damn, I cut you off on my radio
As I take a step back, and piss on your video
Piss on the pop charts and fake material
Rappers know I'm stupid mad
I'm gettin fed up
And fuck all your whack groups
They get set up five at a time


Let 'em come with that cheap shit
Now 1 Adam 12, with that fantasy street shit
Or rappers who try to teach
And brag and pop shit
But, I'm on 8th floor, and ready to drop shit
Pounds and pounds and stacked
Up with metaphor
Open the bag, step aside and then let it pour
Hittin your brain like a
Current through a lightbulb or any old bar
Plus your neighborhood nightclub
Beware yo, you're talkin out of your ass
Laughter

You say you make this much
And you make that much
You come in your white Benz
And pull up like Cap'n Crunch
But, I don't give a fuck I drive a Geo
Now who got the best rhymes? Tell 'em Leo
While you stand stiff like
Gilligan with no Island i burn the MC
Who wrote your fucked up style and
Cause, I'ma get the axe out
And start choppin 'em
Call President Bush to keep stoppin 'em
Whack MC's get the fuck out the business
Oh you with a major? Now tell me what is this
Yo, I'm gettin busy and hyped up
While you gotta scream your rebel
Tracks are fucked up
Measured unmeasured, off-beat and left field
What dummy produced that? That
Shit ain't real
I'm tellin facts, I'm blowin up on your ass
And if your show is tonight
I'm goin up in your ass
Just like an outlaw, smooth rugged and raw
I never roll with a clown
When I'm out on tour i'm not impressed
Fuck around with that cheap style
That African tribe shit, political freestyle
School is lettin out now, it's three o'clock
Fuck all that weak whack shit
It's four o'clock time to get paid
The critic kingdom New York an'
While rappers try to talk I
Step away and keep walkin
Fuck 'em'! Male rappers and females
Cause you ain't worth two cents
A bag with seashells
Tryin to dance, tryin to talk, tryin to rhyme
Tryin to preach, tryin to ill
Tryin to teach, tryin to scream
Listen close chief
You're talkin out of your ass laughter

Continuin, no fuckin bum can stop me
Unless you write in
And tell the company drop me
But, I don't think so, c'mon Freddy
I woke up at 8 o'clock, I'm fuckin ready
For any your whack shit that's hard to sell
10 weeks on Billboard, it's hard to tell
See I don't get mad, the X'll get even
I jump on stage, your dirty ass is leavin
You're lettin off steam - oh yeah really?
No time for rat turds, you're fuckin silly
Don't come with that phony
Monie macaroni Love style
Cause, I'ma get mad
Stupid crazy and buckwild
Son of a bitch, step to me Rich
And watch the X flow reverse and switch
MC's to the other side, they get waxed though
You never knew I could rhyme?
You didn't axe though
I'm rollin all of you two-faced bastards
Ready or not, that's why I always practice
Catch me off guard, yo Sandman fuck you
I stand in the front while
Other rappers they duck you come inside
They try to sneak out the back door
As I get hyped and criticize the whack more
Fuck 'em, I got some shit for their black ass
White rappers too
I got some shit for their whack ass
Cause, I don't hold back with
Tons of mega shit
Come on stage sway down with a weak hit
But, you think you're fresh though
You ain't jack shit smoother than Rhythm X
Go 'head with that whack shit
Aiyyo duke, you're talkin out of your ass
Yes, this is the one Rhythm X
And all you stupid-ass motherfuckers
Who think you nice i wanna see what you got
But, I know you ain't got shit
Ain't nuttin but jack doo doo
Dumb doo doo whack shit
But, you step in boy
And you get played like a toy
SEE YA! Fuck you