Lived in the projects

Lived in the projects Lyrics

[Kool Keith]
Yeah motherf**ker.. that's right..
The motherf**ker in the house.. Kool Keith..
f**k all the bullsh*t, let's get to the real sh*t..
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 sh*t you never mastered
Youse a wannabe thug nigga, you ain't bugged nigga
I cut your b**ch-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 f**kin 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 f**ked up Bronx apartment
Don't p**s me off with a tec-9 loaded in a bullsh*t street argument
I don't care how hard you get
You just another man that never lived in the projects poppin sh*t
You ain't stoppin sh*t, f**k that Batman and Robin sh*t
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 f**kin 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 p**s out of one of you untalented rap motherf**kers
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 f**kin bulletproof vest
I got time for motherf**kers actin like Elliot Ness
Winchester sawed off blow your Rolex through your f**kin 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*