Call the Cops

Kool KeithKool Keith 

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Kool Keith

Keith Thornton, better known by his stage name Kool Keith, is an American rapper from The Bronx, New York. A founding member of Ultramagnetic MCs, Kool Keith has recorded prolifically both as a solo artist and in group collaborations. Kool Keith is the self-proclaimed inventor of horrorcore, and is generally considered to be one of hip-hop's most eccentric and unusual personalities. more »

Year:

1999

4:16

160 Views

Playlists:

#3

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Jacky you keep them rollers in your hair
With that plastic on your head huh?
Maaan, hey Keith who did your jheri curls man? They look good
I seen why'all this morning on Cops man
They had why'all pictures, all your profiles and everything
Why'all should stay low, Gene called
He need five dollars

Ultimate focus behind your neck kid
We flex with tecs on your lyrical index
Stop the masses, rotate the fastest
Afro jheri curl world, get ignited
Reinvited on your Main Sources like the enforcers
Submachines spray your Liberace pianos
Freestyle ambulances, bring out your new dancers
While why'all can't rap, we took your Ampex
We have protective custody
Got your face disgustin me, with animal like instincts
I left a dead gorilla in a skating rink
Penetrate your Gap jeans with Black & Decker machines
Alternate your skullies, catch dead rats in Saran Wrap
Put used diapers on your windshield wipers
Make you eat your own feces, sell you {?}lindrum elyses{?}
Pull out your colon, leave your gland swollen
Uncircumcised between your mom's thighs
That's right, with a face like Michael Myers
I clip the ears off your bodyguards with bloody pliers
Bound to eat a German shepherd in the Mojabe desert
While why'all talk gangster, I push body parts in shopping carts
Leave wigs on streets on Melrose so coroners can smell those
Arms for three days, with three legs in the backseat
Why'all get the back heat - with the police department
Scared to look in my apartment
Three weeks ago I dumped a bag of legs with beer kegs
Went to Rouse and bought a six-pack and some eggs
Seen my face in the paper with a beard, went home and shaved
Took out your bodies in the pickup truck, back to the grave
Drinkin Yoohoo's and donuts, why'all punks think I'm so nuts
Walkin in hospital rooms like the black Dr. Dooom
Push you in the wheelchair, out the window
Down the steps like Ironside, you run and hide
Handicapped with no maps, I'm after you, throw gas at you

 Projects call the cops
[Chorus]
The FBI got our fingerprints, heavy big weights
We move to alternate states (the projects call the cops)
The FBI got our fingerprints, heavy big weights
We move to alternate states (the projects call the cops)
The FBI got our fingerprints, heavy big weights
We move to alternate states (the projects call the cops)
The FBI got our fingerprints, heavy big weights
We move to alternate states

Jacky Jasper with illegal drugs, somethin' for the thugs
A bag of penises with twenty butt plugs
Persian rugs, with dead bodies on it
Call Columbo, who done it solve it, and I'll revolve it
And hold it, to the wolves, to the hawks, to the dogs
Vagina with bugs rubs cubs, getting fellatio
Way {?} fo' sho, positive why die live
Comatose tomato juice and cherry hose and toast
Santa Anna, Barbara at the Barberry coast, most
Chicks licks black holes, village exposed
Wastin' my children on her clothes
Some went up her nose, suppose
I penetrated your neck with a Bic pen
With a belt around my waist like book me
Don't ask my neighbors, bodies dead, sixty flavors
Behavior's, smokin' glass with coleslaw hangin' out your ass
Take a blast, I'm travelin' fast, past
A nymphomaniac, diggin up corpse, I'm a necrophiliac
Gettin' my chick back, hittin' up smack
Had that head bobbin, joggin', cyclin', recycling
Conniving, arrive in hearse drivin' it's even
Seven heads ten horns believe in, evil demon
Ask {?} Steven, retreatin', you're beaten, eaten
Dead puss, sardine can smell from here to Hell
A gladiator with tights under disco lights
Blowin' a harmonica, yo in Santa Monica in a Honda
Named Bazzle, night fall the press cross dress your name Wanda
Call McGerrit, call Dan-O, call Chino
Five-oh, rollin' in a pinto
From Ohio, Toledo down to San Pedro
Believe me hoe, I sold Kurtis the Blow

[Chorus]

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