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Текст (слова) песни: Kool Keith - Lived in the Projects

[Kool Keith]
Yeah motherfucker.. that`s right..
The motherfucker in the house.. Kool Keith..
Fuck all the bullshit, let`s get to the real shit..
Yeah..

Your rhyme touch is soft kid
like a stripper`s ass with a touch of plastic
Writin with a local style
talkin about competitive shit you never mastered
Youse a wannabe thug nigga, you ain`t bugged nigga
I cut your bitch-ass up, leave your legs under the rug nigga
Who want the whiplash?
Cigarette burns, broken face hair pinned up in a cast
Me standin on the top of your tour bus
Butt-naked with a fuckin hockey mask
Slicin your cashmere with a sharp 7-Up glass
Don`t you know I`m sick nigga? Lick my dick nigga!
Forty-four caliber killer gun-toter
Hide your kneecaps in a Lexus motor
Pack your stomach in a compartment
Old dingy fucked up Bronx apartment
Don`t piss me off with a tec-9 loaded in a bullshit street argument
I don`t care how hard you get
You just another man that never lived in the projects poppin shit
You ain`t stoppin shit, fuck that Batman and Robin shit
and what block you with
Kneel down, make a nigga like you call me Big Ernest
Bake your intestines, throw your stomach in the furnace
Watch the thermostat, you ain`t no fuckin 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 motherfuckers
Bodyguards won`t work
with a 30-shot car bomb under my Dominican shirt
Submachine in the duffle bag
Watchin Sesame Street with my daughter, peepin Ernie and Bert
With backstage passes, 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 fuckin bulletproof vest
I got time for motherfuckers actin like Elliot Ness
Winchester sawed off blow your Rolex through your fuckin 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 nigga Western Union
You don`t have a clue men how I get through men

*repeat Chorus 4X*

 

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