KutMasta Kurt - Lived in the Projects lyrics

[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*