Origineel
[Kool Keith]
Well it’s my time, chill out the rhyme as the wagon roll
But I get nice, use the mic when I’m braggin bold
I’m W mega, to the L to the S-O
Kickin MC’s in the face like Jim Kelly
While Keith use the cold cuts in DJ’s from the deli
In a sandwich, cooked up, baked up and wrapped up
Aluminum foil, MC’s I gotta boil
Bake, burn heat ‘em, eat ‘em, chop ‘em beat ‘em
Down to the sound as it blows in your brain though
I look at MC’s, walk away and my brain blow
A UFO object unidentified
I’m takin your skull on a journey to another ride
The aplha omega, but the X is live and
But they can’t see the swift style that I’ve been
Effect on their stereo, with mega material
Cap’n Crunch DJ, I mix ‘em up like cereal
Back in the format, and radio fess
Rhythm X, back to flex, stamp X and break necks
And eat up the Wheat Chex
You know who I am?
{*repeat: “Rhythm X, the X”*}
[Interlude]
Yo X this is Superior M
The mad dog, Tim, TR
Yo step to ‘em again on that 74 degree angle
[Kool Keith]
I be the Rhythm X flower, stutter steppin to ‘em
Breakin the law the chain style connects
One rhyme, maybe if one more time or two
Rappers are whack for you and so will I laugh at you
Ha ha ha ha ha, giggle giggle
Hmmmmm, excuse me while I cough
AHUH~! Then I break on MC’s
One at a time they’ll send me 84 rappers
Watch ‘em go back and turn to 84 crappers
Feet tappers, bitin fist snappers
I stamp X above, the letter K
But you can’t see the alphabet in a better way
The style arranger, super and flexible
Connect a sector, with lyrics and metaphor
Stackin a beat like a truck full of Wonder Bread
Listen up close you’ll hear the rhyme that thunder said
I be the X, X for execution
X’n ‘em out with heavy rhyme confusion
Pickin up styles to bake bombs I drop doe
For whack MC’s your toy albums’ll plop doe
But you got a nerve, comin bustin some other rhyme
Young MC style, or maybe your brother rhymes
Who wrote that shit for you?
That ain’t you, but see the X wanna know
I get mad cause you lyrically can’t flow
You’re like a toy, He-Man or G.I. Joe
Wait a minute and stop it, hold it, chill
Yo… you wanna get ill?
Hey you with the glasses, hey you with the Kangol
Hey you with the big head, hey you with the suit on
Hey you with the panties, c’mere fish face
When I’m on stage, play me like 3rd Bass
You know who I am?
{*repeat: “Rhythm X, the X”*}
Vertaling
[Kool Keith]
Well it’s my time, chill out the rhyme as the wagon roll
But I get nice, use the mic when I’m braggin bold
I’m W mega, to the L to the S-O
Kickin MC’s in the face like Jim Kelly
Terwijl Keith de vleeswaren gebruikt in DJ’s van de deli
In a sandwich, cooked up, baked up and wrapped up
Aluminum foil, MC’s I gotta boil
Bake, burn heat ‘em, eat ‘em, chop ‘em beat ‘em
Down to the sound as it blows in your brain though
I look at MC’s, walk away and my brain blow
A UFO object unidentified
I’m takingin your skull on a journey to another ride
De aplha omega, maar de X is live en
But they can’t see the swift style that I’ve been
Effect op hun stereo, met mega materiaal
Cap’n Crunch DJ, I mix ‘em up like cereal
Back in the format, and radio fess
Rhythm X, back to flex, stamp X and break necks
And eat up the Wheat Chex
Weet je wie ik ben?
“Rhythm X, the X “*}
[Interlude]
Yo X dit is Superior M
The mad dog, Tim, TR
Yo step to ‘em again on that 74 degree angle
[Kool Keith]
I be the Rhythm X flower, stutter steppin to ‘em
Breakin the law the chain style connects
One rhyme, maybe if one more time or two
Rappers zijn whack voor jou en zo zal ik je uitlachen
Ha ha ha ha, giechel giechel
Hmmmmm, excuseer me terwijl ik hoest
AHUH~! Dan breek ik op MC’s
Een voor een sturen ze me 84 rappers
Kijk hoe ze teruggaan en veranderen in 84 crappers
Feet tappers, bitin fist snappers
Ik stempel X boven, de letter K
Maar je kunt het alfabet niet op een betere manier zien
De stijl arrangeur, super en flexibel
Connect a sector, with lyrics and metaphor
Stackin a beat like a truck full of Wonder Bread
Luister van dichtbij je hoort het rijm dat de donder zei
I be the X, X for execution
X’n ‘em out with heavy rhyme confusion
Pickin up styles to bake bombs I drop doe
Voor de gekste MC’s zullen je speelgoed albums ploppen
Maar je hebt lef, je komt met een ander rijm
Jonge MC stijl, of misschien rijmt je broer
Wie schreef die shit voor jou?
Dat ben jij niet, maar zie de X wil het weten
Ik word boos omdat je tekstueel niet kan vloeien
Je bent net speelgoed, He-Man of G.I. Joe
Wacht even en stop ermee, wacht even, chill
Yo… wil je ziek worden?
Hey jij met de bril, hey jij met de Kangol
Hey jij met het grote hoofd, hey jij met het pak aan
Hey jij met het slipje, c’mere fish face
Als ik op het podium sta, bespeel me dan als een derde bas
Weet je wie ik ben?
{*herhaal: “Rhythm X, the X “*}