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letra de keith n bumpy - kool keith

[kool keith]
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 b-tch..

youse a b-tch–ss n-gga, smack your f-ckin skullies off
you n-ggas 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
n-ggas with that champagne sh-t
f-ckin with me, you’ll earn a job in the cleaners
givin motherf-ckers a permanent crease
we don’t do entertainment tonight, rosie o’donn-ell
p-ss on n-ggas like you and take your video models
straight to church’s chicken, and f-ckin mcdonald’s
f-ck all you glamourized f-ggot n-ggas
y’all on some real hardcore, maggot n-ggas
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 b-tch–ss bodyguard, bunch of n-ggas squealin
cancel your important meetings, we can do this
broad daylight, just me and you in a f-ckin jamaican restertaunt
“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 bloodclot, catch you n-ggas in quadrasonic or sony
platinum sounds, who is it bill?
who’s f-ckin around with crazy tony?
all that bullsh-t, walkin around with – hard packs
you motherf-ckers carryin backpacks
that’s right, with your hooded parkas
you motherf-ckers suck d-ck and you’re phony

[repeat 4x]
y’all do y’all sh-t in the studio
we bring our sh-t to your face!

[‘bumpy’]
my mental is sinister, i run sh-t like a prime minister
you still breathin motherf-cker? but now it’s time to finish ya
blood sport, i heard you on life support
but i’mma make sure that you don’t take the witness stand in court
afternoon, i’mma creep up in your room, past the goon
‘fore you (??) ba-boom, and i’m sendin yo’ -ss to the moon
another motherf-cker bite the dust from the l-st
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 motherf-cker? 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 -ss 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’ -ss 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 b-tches brains, when they suckin on my sugar cane
my fame came before money you f-ckin dummy
b-tches callin me ‘bumpy’ while my d-ck is in they tummy
but if you cross the line, you won’t be able to find
they motherf-ckin head, they limbs or they spine
so all you b-tch motherf-ckers 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

- kool keith

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