| I got a brand new Ford, bright orange-yellow pickup truck
|
| Cruising around like I’m Johnny Espisito
|
| Pumping my funk tape with Stretch and B Bobbito
|
| Looking around for that kid who robbed Joey, oh he
|
| Catch another rapper rhyme slowly
|
| In the back of your head feel the calico M-O
|
| You know the X, hey hey, he’s out the hospital
|
| He played a trumpet in class, plus he had a fiddle
|
| He had a house uptown on Green Apple Road
|
| A human body buried monkey plus a little toad
|
| Scared federal bereau, fuck investigation
|
| No phones, no beeps, fuck communication
|
| I like ice cream kids, I like Carvelle
|
| I read comics and books, yeah Marvel
|
| You want to step MC’s, I’m in the basement
|
| Hold up mirrors to hell, where your face went?
|
| I walk quiet at night, through the projects
|
| Maybe one night look through your peephole, peekaboo!
|
| I got a gift for you, to fuck Santa Claus
|
| Open your door, face the Cenobites light
|
| I want the matrix of mad, I’m like Hellraiser
|
| (Who could I be?)
|
| Kick a dope verse and then we ghost
|
| Bobbito and yes I got the props
|
| Now will you crab-ass niggas just hop off my cock
|
| My style’s En Vouge, you’re never gonna get it
|
| Phonetic, kenetic, energetic flows your ears in a tournaquet
|
| Wrapped tightly, my raps just might be
|
| Unsightly, or slightly greusome
|
| Some groups are done, some groups run
|
| Many groups come, when Bob beats are spun
|
| Stun by the stun gun, you’re chewing my dick gum
|
| I stick it in your nose so kids can ridicule like Catholic school
|
| Second grade, Mrs. Flaherty had a tragedy
|
| She saw me bust a nut it was flattery
|
| Now I recharge my battery
|
| Flattery gets me where I’m going, lets me know I’m flowing
|
| Sets me when I’m boning
|
| Shit, people asks me who writes for me
|
| I write my own shit from finish to start
|
| Diminish the heart, I eat a kinish and then I fart
|
| A traskit, a triscit, a golden-eared biscuit
|
| Kool Keith asked me to rhyme and so I kicked it
|
| Nervous, served this, never even heard this
|
| Leave a hearse wordless, because I just served this
|
| Stretch Armstrong, my man, my mellow
|
| My Godfather Don, get on the mic and say hello
|
| It’s kind of pertinant that the venom I send 'em
|
| Will give 'em an enema, then I’m a prove my shit is funkier than
|
| Yours, when wars bend laws to make niggas figure
|
| I can’t rap, I play it undercover and plant that
|
| One word you heard no other say
|
| And the nut I lay to impregnate wombs to tombs
|
| Of larvae, insects to dissect from the ribcage
|
| To the solar, remember the scene of my brain make
|
| You shake and so when I hold a microphone steady
|
| To go on the collision course and send it
|
| When I mental with light jeans don’t read names
|
| I’m illiterate, consider it ripped, stripped, flipped, kicked
|
| Then shredded, so say «cheese"when you pictured yourself imbedded
|
| Headed to the fate of niggas spraying rhymes
|
| Like mace, terrible, I’m esoterical when I’m tearing through
|
| Varying the methods and shit, I never do
|
| I left it to Kool Keith, Bobbito, full of libido
|
| For the girls who need-o eight inches of tounge to eat-o, hey
|
| Kind of neato, so check it out
|
| Peace, hollito
|
| Kick a dope verse and then we ghost |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Kick A Dope Verse , by - Kool Keith. Song from the album Collabs Tape, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп