Lived in the Projects lyrics

[Kool Keith]
Yeah motherf*cker.. that's right..
The motherf*cker in the house.. Kool Keith..
f*ck 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 n*gga, you ain't bugged n*gga
I cut your b*tch-ass up, leave your legs under the rug n*gga
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*ckin hockey mask
Slicin your cashmere with a sharp 7-Up glass
Don't you know I'm sick n*gga? Lick my di*k n*gga!
Forty-four caliber killer gun-toter
Hide your kneecaps in a Lexus motor
Pack your stomach in a compartment
Old dingy f*cked up Bronx apartment
Don't p*ss 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*ck that Batman and Robin sh*t
And what block you with
Kneel down, make a n*gga like you call me Big Ernest
Bake your intestines, throw your stomach in the furnace
Watch the thermostat, you ain't no f*ckin 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*ss out of one of you untalented rap motherf*ckers
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 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*ckin bulletproof vest
I got time for motherf*ckers actin like Elliot Ness
Winchester sawed off blow your Rolex through your f*ckin 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*gga Western Union
You don't have a clue men how I get through men
*repeat Chorus 4X*