kool keith – lived in the projects lyrics
yeah, motherf-cker, that? s right
the motherf-cker in the house, kool keith
f-ck all the bullsh-t, let? s get to the real sh-t, yeah
your rhyme touch is soft kid like a stripper? s -ss
with a touch of plastic, writin’ with a local style
talkin’ about compet-tive sh-t you never mastered
youse a wannabe thug n-gg-, you ain? t bugged n-gg-
i cut your b-tch–ss up, leave your legs under the rug n-gg-
who want the whiplash? cigarette burns
broken face hair pinned up in a ast
me standin’ on the top of your tour bus
b-tt naked with a f-ckin’ hockey mask
slicin’ your cashmere with a sharp 7-up gl-ss
don? t you know i? m sick n-gg-? lick my d-ck, n-gg-
forty-four caliber killer gun toter
hide your kneecaps in a lexus motor
pack your stomach in a compartment
old dingy f-cked up bronx apartment
don? t p-ss me off with a tec nine loaded in a bullsh-t street argument
i don? t care how hard you get
you just another man that never lived in the projects poppin’ sh-t
you ain? t stoppin’ sh-t, f-ck that batman and robin sh-t
and what block you with, kneel down
make a n-gg- like you call me big ernest
bake your intestines, throw your stomach in the furnace
watch the thermostat, you ain? t no f-ckin’ fat cat
you never lived in the projects
you ain? t no drug dealer
you never lived in the projects
you ain? t no drug dealer
you never lived in the projects
you ain? t no drug dealer
rude bwoy with a temper like a jamaican off a haitian boat
carribean ruckus with an elvis wig
slap the p-ss out of one of you untalented rap motherf-ckers
bodyguards won? t work with a thirty shot car bomb
under my dominican shirt, sub machine in the duffle bag
watchin’ sesame street with my daughter, peepin ernie and bert
with backstage p-sses, wearin a long trench coat
get morris in your projects and jackson
in a madison square garden concert
ready for cbs and nbc, to do a big network
the average guy, havin’ a product manager
and a female publicist wearin’ a f-ckin’ bulletproof vest
i got time for motherf-ckers actin’ like elliot ness
winchester sawed off blow your rolex through your f-ckin’ chest
splatted body pieces while blood drips off your girl? s dress
i? m ready for more progress, have your head sent home
and a piece of your leg sittin’ on the record company desk
extort like a mad n-gg- western union
you don? t have a clue men how i get through men
you never lived in the projects
you ain? t no drug dealer
you never lived in the projects
you ain? t no drug dealer
you never lived in the projects
you ain? t no drug dealer
you never lived in the projects
you ain? t no drug dealer
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