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Dr. Dooom (Kool Keith) - Sideline lyrics

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Sideline by Dr. Dooom (Kool Keith)

You motherf**kers oughta let me go and finish this motherf**kin album
Dr. Dooom..
Name of this track is called "I Don't Want the Motherf**kin Chorus"
Whatever all the arrangements are we gon' go through
f**k all the laws..
What the f**k was in your mind when you rapped on that track?
Who posessed you to do that? Who programmed that sh*t sound wack
Unplug your mic
You motherf**kers rap under a bunch of f**kin hype
Programmed by the company, makin somethin cheap
Vocals sound like a nigga with no dough and a promo;
makin asses out of yourselves, tryin to rap solo
Suck my dick when you see me; avoid because you wanna be me
Y'all niggaz write like slouches puffin blunts on studio couches
What's up you f**kin amateur?
Your engineer'll cue in your bullsh*t cadence
That sh*t sounds simple; look at this nigga rhymin to hisself
Wack as f**k, smell like sh*t for one buck
Big crews don't want it -- y'all get it worse
Which one of y'all motherf**kers is waitin for the mic first?
I hope your b**ch is in the audience
Your wife too, that's your fanbase -- plus your DJ's in the place
I'm about to boo you, let it be fair; when you come off-stage
ninety percent of the people that came on your guest list
ain't gon' be there
A big dissapointment when I rub your a**hole with a verbal ointment
Rappers actin hard, nervous in the dressin room
with a security guard
Groupies standin round with they f**kin face frowned
Lookin like f**kin Homey the Clown
Put that Spring Water down man, you ain't sweatin
You motherf**kers did a ten minute weak show and you jettin;
your fans are mad - your performance was garbage bag
Look at these videotapes
Walkin back and forth grabbin your nuts like the Planet of the Apes
Supervise it, criticize it, y'all don't realize it
where the real guys at
Who's administrating your budget when you takin
that high picture for Right On with your ballroom light on
You know the night is kind of special like Lauryn bro
when I escort you to your car, you breakout bastards
Leave the premises and reminisce on your rookie season
after you first started
You try to work hard and you never paid no dues
like Cold Crush and Afrika Bambaata
You wack nigga, tryin to act large in the video in Nevada
You f**kin pink maggot; I'll take your mic, you can't have it
You niggaz be runnin around with ears open like f**kin bunny rabbits
That's right, Dr. Dooom
All you motherf**kers around the world sittin in studios with your boys
Hypin your sh*t up
Motherf**kers don't wanna tell you that your sh*t is wack
because they all yes men
Sittin around, carryin your roadie cases
Bein your f**kin cheerleaders
I'ma tell you straight, look in the f**kin mirror, you wack
That sh*t don't sound right, your mixdown ain't right
Your vocals are too low.. your f**kin cadence is off
Stage show's weak.. f**k you!

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