Midnight Spaghetti & The Chocolate G-Strings - Heat It Up lyrics

(Seth Casana; Mikael Glago) this is for all the space people who keep the one love no people who hate people no bull fecal to everybody kickin' it since the fetal posish' we grantin' your wish I want the volume above you filled with your fist if you got one, if not, just throw your hips if you don't got hips, well then you could flap your lips and if you're missing everything, well then I guess you're pretty hip to everybody on a robot tip just flip your transist', say "ohm" to your resist' grease up your gears and do the twist like you was sitting at the top of Big Bopper's list flaunt your creator's mastery of LISP and use your NLP to learn to shoot the gift but don't dis your hist' or I'm gonna be pissed me and ENIAC'll leave you sitting on the isthmus If you feeling woozy, wobbly, or groggy 'cause you're not used to Earth's gravity just throw your sea legs in the air and disconnect'em like you just don't care Midnight Spaghetti heat it up Midnight Spaghetti eat it up Midnight Spaghetti what the funk Midnight Spaghetti going down Midnight Spaghetti on the microphone and Dr. Imani, cut it to the bone smell the funk of OrangeBand cologne you could roll with us or else go it alone Decaf Spoon, all up in your face gave you athelete's foot in your private place Dangus Kahn, invade your personal space y'all try to give chase, but wait, you can't take the ace of this race, got you sprayed with mace sprawled out on the floor like these rhymes have been laced if you pick a fight with us, man. get out your pen because you'll want to sign our very own dismemberment plan it pays $50,000 directly to your kids if I rip off your face when I hit it with my fist I eat pieces of sh** like you for breakfast that's right, I eat pieces of sh** live like a king off of what you crap out while all you could do is crap out you get scratched out of the scorecard, 'cause there ain't no score only how many hor's d'oeuvres you can devour drinking more and more but only getting poor because you paid $30 just to get in the door ten more to park your car down the street at the store while some punk a** kid tryin' to jack your car door velour where the carpet should be down on the floor with ultra-fine girlies gyrating galore boots, booty pants, bras and nothing more all the while wondering what in the world it's all for but your said, "Turn it up some more!" that's why we gonna play a little encore see, we can keep the funk alive all night long even when we play a creepy song Midnight Spaghetti turn it up Midnight Spaghetti burn it up Midnight Spaghetti what the funk Midnight Spaghetti going down