"yeah, kool keith should keep it real
He should rap about space and mars... "

[kool keith]
Yo, I'm tired of looking at everybody
Same boots, skully hats in
90 Degree weather
Looking to get into clubs for free
I'm not smoking blunts
Or looking for jazz records at the roosevelt

I left New York, the city itself
Was stress depression
High boots and urban beats
That wasn't my direction
Producers filtering join in with r&b
A million rappers, some clones trying
To sound like me
Biting my space styles
Biting my horror-core
All I saw was kool keiths on my thaw
Record companies had g'd-off
All my royalties
Watching vinyl spin
Local groups' wack mc's
Some try to rap with that
Perpetrate mobster crap
Karl kani jeans
Fat stomachs in the limosines
Mixtapes by wack dj's adds doo doo play
I'm on the turnpike
The city drifting down the highway
Like a mirage
The style there is all illusion
On videos out of town
Peoples buy confusion
Rolling high with cash
Pulled over down my eye
Since I've been out
Y'all can't see

Chorus
Is the world made of plastic?
Is the city buried in dreams? (yeah)
Is the world made of plastic?
Cause that's the way is seems (oww)

Watching tv so bored, while imbiciles
Hold the mic cord
Graffiti playgrounds are played out
Yo how'd that sound?
Army fatigues are weak
Is for the minor leagues
No rapping cyphers or brothers
In the rented benz
Crews on stage
Acting hard with a thousand friends
I saw the place turn plastic
Crackers looping beats
People with no deals
Walkmen rappin on the streets
I turned my back
90 of the city sounded wack
Payola scams switched dj's like a rubber band
Everybody clear with beats
Trying to be premier
Clearing samples, your sp-12 fake examples
My money grows with green from my own label
While you act rich with no cash
On the bigger label
Your tri-state ways
Are shut down by barricades
In fact I packed my bags
And listened to e-40
Mac mall, c-bo
And other rappers you don't know
You're narrow-minded
And styles of mind you won't find it
My sound proceeds with moog
And undertone bass
No comic gimmicks with beats
Rapping in my face
I come back real
Solid rock razor steel
Tap your program
Show the world I'm the man

You copy poppa large, the industry is large

Chorus x2

As I do see sorta rugged wack
Beer commercials
Some rappers are bought
And puppeteered like the ninja turtles
From manhattan I heat up
Yo light up times square
I make noise like open high hats on
Your cheap snare
No promotional shows
Girls wear corn rows
People with hooded sweaters on crack
Keep me on my toes
I walk with straw hats
Fake glasses in the projects
Bring my ghost image so tense on
The line of scrimmage
Playing my numbers
Waiting for the five to come
Spaghetti out the window, people acting dumb
Fire hazards wake the neighbors
Your family's nosy
I come and go as I please on blockhead mc's
You bought new sneakers, no car
Scrambling on the corner
I'm not the star you are
The city's fallen far
By mechanism, you're on my tip
Stay off my penis
You've duplicated me for years

Yeah, yeah, yeah, you are the one

Chorus x2