Keith-Matthew Thornton - Apartment 223 lyrics

[Production by KutMasta Kurt] Do not ring the bell, there is nobody home The spirits around will haunt you, do not ring the bell There is nobody home Apartment 223,(Scratch: I'm very hungry) (3x) Apartment 223 with body parts under my bed Cut your abdomen out stab your f**in leather coat I chant while candles burn with robes on You will learn Christian or Hebrew on the the balcony I see you The devils coffin with corpse of course In a mental state earthquake Schizophrenic eatin' Campbell's soup Takin a piss urinalysis test I hope you wear a f**in bullet proof vest Just purchased the Charter Arms .38 When you entered the confetti hell gate On the peed floor bloody towels on sculptures Machine gun suitcases, for all you n***as with 2 faces Ma** murderer, should have been in San Quentin I'm doin' life to ten, when I come home you goddamn Right I'm goin back again f** the drinks on the table While you sleep I take pictures of bullets in your navel Open your face and pour milk in your forehead Count the bodies, that's four dead Look behind your f**in' back With the drill bit in your a** crack, EXTREME PRESSURE Teach you a lesson f** your confession of evil I march with black sheets on the Sunset streets With hoods like Dracula I walk in back of ya Draggin you stomach parts to McDonalds Drink Absolut bottles and bottles, while you tryin' To f** with the most exotic models [Hook] As you see the sign, beware of animals A f**in wild habitat My living room is the wilderness with spots on My carpet Practicing my gun targets Virtual reality is a rough end to your career Set you on fire in a leather chair Using charcoal to broil Rap your jealous eyeballs in aluminum foil Wearin' masks on the telephone talkin to Your black a**es, with stocking caps I reach I'm takin'your a** in a rented van to Venice Beach In a cardboard box Beatin' down your knees with a bag of Master locks Police can't hear you with a dead body tied near you It's hot, I 'm drinkin' soda with a Tech-9 sprayin' Your fan belt motor Stop the bullsh**, blast you hands of the hood I pull quick Video tape you in a puddle of blood with razors in Your dick With an extra clip I move your torso Spit on your hips With Mac-11 vice grips, surgery is major With my sneakers stompin' on your pager With a cup of Maxwell coffee, I like n***as whose Bossy f** the critics I press your back Steam burn through your straight leg jeans Soakin your bones out in the washing machine, with Tide soap in the laundromat you witness the k**ing Your man got scared called Riverdale with a baseball Hat, took a cab to Hawthorne I know where he's goin' You can't hide in an empty apartment with a mattress And no protection, with a New York psycho Buying shells in the Hollywood section I'm pressin bells and bells and bells till you f**in Let me in [Hook] Follow you on tour like a haunted nightmare Kickin' in your intestines like Ric Flair Standin' by the Mobil gas station with a flamethrower And a f**in lawnmower, throwin big lighters at your fuel tank I smash up your face in the electric window, piss on Your fenders With my umbrella up like the Avengers Plead guily in court bring Glocks through the security X-rays going for the world records Shut the f** up about music, I'm playin' checkers With bloody Polo shirts Lookin' at the fireworks On the dirty a** terrace Bones in 'fridgerators spring water and lettuce f** it if your jealous Graham crackers with flies around 'em Keep you eyes around 'em f** dishes, dial your ambulance I'm on a mission Open up your shin guards in tinfoil Warmin' my bread and Saurkraut while your legs boil Ketchup and Mustard, f** voodoo Paint on my face lookin off my roof like a Shaka Zulu Surroundin your area for the biggest ma** hysteria Muhammed, Bohemian While you motherf**ers eat pork I taste real humans On my fork [Hook x4] [Arch Oboler] You look surprised... You do not see anything on the table? (Chairs Squeak against floor) Well wait until I get the box....