My Cut's Correct

(This is far out)

Drop it

Yeah

Dissin' all you Robidog deejays that suck

And I ain't gotta call no names

My name is Mixmaster, battle me if you're able

But for now I'm just chillin' and yo, I stay stable

One day I react and then it's slow like radiation

'Cause suckers bite my cuts, they keep tracin'

Me, fraudulatin', then pretend to be the best

I got hands like bombs and they inflict death

My complexion is cream, my ego won't break

And I don't get conceited to the point where my head inflates

So if you want to battle me, don't get sloppy

Cause when I start cuttin' yo, you better stop me

(Wack DJ's, he cut the mess out of you)

It's somethin' about my tactic that makes my scratch kick

A lotta disc jockeys bluff but I react quick

Stay nimble, win battles by landslides

Can do a cut better than you with my hands tied

Behind my back, so hold your breath in

I'm expellin' a rhyme within a fraction of a second

Jack of all trades, so label me a veteran

You know my crew by the UTFO lettering

My voice box interlocks on any intercom

I only cut to build the biceps on my arm

My name is Mixmaster, deejays be aware

Because I treat my turntables like car ware

And if you want to battle me from lack of respect

Ts.. balls - my cut is correct

The M-I-X has a quick reflex

It's like a hologram picture, the plot on the set

I'm not a misfit and yo my cuts get better

Label me awesome, the critics all sever

Me from a amateuristic opponent

You want to battle me? Ha-ha, postpone it!

You can't make what I innovate

The indicator will break if you record me on tape

And yo, I get with it, keep the needle on the pivot

Leader of the Pack, this title I fit it

Jack of all trades but cuttin' is my hobby

So listen to the property, the structure and the body

And if you want to battle me from lack of respect

Ha balls, my cut is correct

I can take a record apart, then put it back together

I'm clever never, ever

Lost to any cause, cause it's vital

Practiced and rehearsed to keep this title

I won't be categorized as mediocre

Temper with your psyche and then provoke ya

Runnin' off your mouth and talkin' crap to me

Is like puttin' your dome between a guillotine

It's been that way since block partyin'

I mesmerize your mind, then work your body and

No time for profilin' or ladi-dadi-in

This was predetermined since kindergartian

I'll put my twelve's in a museum

So fools like you will pay to come see em

And if you want to battle me from lack of respect

Balls, baby, my cut is correct

My cut is correct

I guess I'm gonna have to just

(Sign em up, s-s-sign em up)

Yeah

(Sign em up, sign em up, sign em up)

(Sign em up, s-s-sign em up, sign em up)

Sign em all up like children

(Sign em up, s-s-sign em up

Sign em up, sign em up, sign em up

Sign em up, s-s-sign em up, sign em up)

Yeah, Morse code scratch in effect

UTFO style

East Flatbush rock on!