Lived in the Projects Songtext
von 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 AST
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 nine 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

You never lived in the projects
You ain? t no drug dealer
You never lived in the projects
You ain? t no drug dealer
You never lived in the projects
You ain? t no drug dealer

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 thirty shot car bomb

Under my Dominican shirt, sub machine in the duffle bag
Watchin′ sesame street with my daughter, peepin Ernie and Bert
With backstage passes, wearin a long trench coat
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

You never lived in the projects
You ain? t no drug dealer
You never lived in the projects
You ain? t no drug dealer

You never lived in the projects
You ain? t no drug dealer
You never lived in the projects
You ain? t no drug dealer