[Kool Keith]
Yeah motherf**er.. that's right..
The motherf**er in the house.. Kool Keith..
f** all the bullsh**, let's get to the real sh**..
Yeah..
Your rhyme touch is soft kid
Like a stripper's a** with a touch of plastic
Writin with a local style
Talkin about competitive sh** you never mastered
Youse a wannabe thug n***a, you ain't bugged n***a
I cut your b**h-a** up, leave your legs under the rug n***a
Who want the whiplash?
Cigarette burns, broken face hair pinned up in a cast
Me standin on the top of your tour bus
bu*t-naked with a f**in hockey mask
Slicin your cashmere with a sharp 7-Up gla**
Don't you know I'm sick n***a? Lick my dick n***a!
Forty-four caliber k**er gun-toter
Hide your kneecaps in a Lexus motor
Pack your stomach in a compartment
Old dingy f**ed up Bronx apartment
Don't piss me off with a tec-9 loaded in a bullsh** street argument
I don't care how hard you get
You just another man that never lived in the projects poppin sh**
You ain't stoppin sh**, f** that Batman and Robin sh**
And what block you with
Kneel down, make a n***a like you call me Big Ernest
Bake your intestines, throw your stomach in the furnace
Watch the thermostat, you ain't no f**in fat cat
Chorus: Kool Keith
[Sung] You never lived in the projects!
You ain't no drug dealer
*repeat Chorus 3X*
[Kool Keith]
Rude bwoy with a temper like a Jamaican off a Haitian boat
Carribean ruckus - with an Elvis wig
Slap the piss out of one of you untalented rap motherf**ers
Bodyguards won't work
With a 30-shot carbine under my Dominican shirt
Submachine in the duffle bag
Watchin Sesame Street with my daughter, peepin Ernie and Bert
With backstage pa**es, wearin a long trenchcoat
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**in bulletproof vest
I got time for motherf**ers actin like Elliot Ness
Winchester sawed off blow your Rolex through your f**in 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***a Western Union
You don't have a clue men how I get through men
*repeat Chorus 4X*