Kool Keith Keith N Bumpy
See, you play around too f..ckin' much
(How many people you got hurt?)
You ain't learned your lesson yet
(You ain't learned your f..ckin' lesson)
You still playin' and f..ckin' around
That's all you doin, you playin' f..ckin' around
Youse a little, bitch
Youse a bitch ass nigga, smack your f..ckin' skullies off
You niggaz ain't learned a f..ckin' lesson yet?
Count your blessing yet, publicity got you mixed up
And Keith's f..cked your whole million dollar aura
Clean cut or thugged out, I don't give a f..ck
Niggaz with that champagne shit
F..ckin' with me, you'll earn a job in the cleaners
Givin' motherfuckers a permanent crease
We don't do Entertainment Tonight, Rosie O'Donnell
Piss on niggaz like you and take your video models
Straight to Church's Chicken, and f..ckin' McDonald's
F..ck all you glamorized faggot niggaz
Y'all on some real hardcore, maggot niggaz
Catch you in the gridlock in New York City traffic
Hit you in the face with a rock tied up in a f..ckin' sock
Tell the cops, I'll chase you with a mac-10
Follow your Range Rover with stockin' caps
For seventy-eight more f..ckin' blocks
Watch ambulances and paramedics take off your paragon down
Remove your f..ckin' mop, take your body pieces
In a f..cked up van to a Mexican chop shop
F..ck a bitch-ass bodyguard, bunch of niggaz squealin'
Cancel your important meetings, we can do this
Broad daylight, just me and you in a f..ckin' Jamaican restaurant
"Who da f..ck ya tink you are mon, what ya f..ckin doin?
You don't know the f..ck I am", load three four five clips
F..ckin' magazines, I'll show you the f..ckin' bomb
Ya blood clot, catch you niggaz in Quadrasonic or Sony
Platinum Sounds, who is it Bill?
Who's f..ckin' around with Crazy Tony?
All that bullshit, walkin' around with - hard packs
You motherfuckers carryin' backpacks
That's right, with your hooded parkas
You motherfuckers suck dick and you're phony
Y'all do y'all shit in the studio
We bring our shit to your face
Y'all do y'all shit in the studio
We bring our shit to your face
Y'all do y'all shit in the studio
We bring our shit to your face
Y'all do y'all shit in the studio
We bring our shit to your face
My mental is sinister, I run shit like a prime minister
You still breathin' motherfucker? But now it's time to finish ya
Blood sport, I heard you on life support
But I'ma make sure that you don't take the witness stand in court
Afternoon, I'ma creep up in your room, past the goon
'Fore you [unverified] ba-boom, and I'm sendin' yo' ass to the moon
Another motherfucker bite the dust from the lust
To live plush, and he died quick from the rush
Now I'm Southbound, f..ck the 6, take the Greyhound
Any cat cross the line can't hide it's goin down
I got connects with tecs and white boats and jets
Think I'm playin' motherfucker? Let me know who next
Silence and not loud, pick you off in the crowd
Now your shorty growin' up in the world as a fatherless child
Everybody choose the f..ckin' way that they wanna play
Just remember one f..ckin' day that that ass gotta pay
'Cause f..ckin' with my gravy is like rapin' my little baby
And you still wouldn't be safe if you joined the f..ckin' navy
You must be crazy, thinkin' yo' ass can get Swayze
But the only f..ckin' thing you gon' be doin is pushin' up daisies
And it won't faze me, 'cause real gangsters raised me
Ghetto diamonds praised me and thugs slug just craze me
I know it sounds strange, but it's part of the game
I control bitches brains, when they suckin' on my sugar cane
My fame came before money you f..ckin' dummy
Bitches callin' me, Bumpy while my dick is in they tummy
But if you cross the line, you won't be able to find
They motherfuckin' head, they limbs or they spine
So all you bitch motherfuckers better respect mine
If you plan on bein' here to see the f..ckin' sunshine
(Blaow)
Blaow, with one in your spine
Keith 'n' Bumpy' put one in your spine