Your Mom is My Wife - Kool Keith, Kutmasta Kurt

Yo wassup, this is Kool Keith, '96 to 2000

I don’t be out there with these little boys tryin' to freestyle — they my sons

Freestyles with their whack styles (my styl-oz)

But I’m big time, I married your mother, gave you a portion of my skills (so

step off)

I’m beyond that, kid — your daddy, boy.

You’ve been neglected

I was yo' father.

You jack MC’s — I left yo' brother

Y’all, was way too small, remember mommy had your brother

You got some rhymes now, and how for y’all forgot yo' daddy?

Your mom was pregnant in '86 ridin' in my Caddy

I gave her royalties for you, money to feed your crew

You were starvin', cryin', diapers, 'I wanna rhyme' (waaaah)

Yo' mom was on my back, 'Won't you teach him how to rhyme?'

Now you hard as a rock, tough boys, all my sons

That’s a shame boys, I bought your last Christmas toys

Remember mix, I’m still the best y’all

I was potty trainin' with baby doo-doo on your vest

Your crew is no test, respect yo' mother, she’s my wife

You’re still a toddler, man, whatever, a monkey all your life

You don’t want the skill, I spittles on your anal bill

I read some prime-time stories that’s more deep than Jack and Jill

So come on, I’m not the one stepdad — I’m your real father

Your mom is my wife

She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)

Your mom is my wife

She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)

Your mom is my wife

She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)

I’m still big-time, yeah I know in fact, son here’s my autograph

You was my favorite kid, I helped you study math

Me and yo' mother raise you up in the projects

Now you want to battle yo' father and let your skill flex

Take your rap out now, comment on yo'

Your crew got no chance on the label kickin' crap-rap

Look at your groupies, your girlfriends, they on my tip

They wanna see your father get loose, your daddy flip

I drop more, like Mr. Magic

You copy my tapes — my rap style’s still graphic

You wonder how I run things from '86 to '96?

My daddy’s still in the mix

With my mommy they had they 8th baby, my little brother Tommy:

'I can grow up one day with my crew, battle daddy

You love my mommy, my newborn baby brother Larry, goo-goo, ga-ga.'

Pass them wet Pampers, Ali-Babas

Your mom is my wife

She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)

Your mom is my wife

She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)

Your mom is my wife

She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)

Me and yo mom’s still tight, we still together

Why is my chain on yo' neck and why you wearin' my leather?

'Yo daddy, I’m hardcore, I’m Russell Simmon’s tour'

But I taught you

'You taught me how to rhyme.'

What I taught you: off beat and on time

You live off me to be the copycat clone-MC

I wear disguises now.

MC’s don’t know who is me

I keep my stylo' with mommy, we on the down-low

We on paid vacations in Hawaii, I’m a real pro

I hear your whack-style that you think is so superb

You need to rip your papers, kick your albums to the curb

That’s enough of your bluff like H&R pumpin' stuff

I’m your real father, extra biological

This gift’s raw for all y’all, psychological

Your mom is my wife

She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)

Your mom is my wife

She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)

Your mom is my wife

She’s a sweet, fine, old lady (yo' mother)

Yeah, my wife forever, as we go to leave this nonsense and walk into our

atmosphere

She’s my wife.

I still love her