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Lived in The Projects lyrics
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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*  More Kool Keith Song Lyrics
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