Dr. Dooom - Always Talkin' Out Your Ass lyrics
[Dr. Dooom - Always Talkin' Out Your Ass lyrics]
Yeah, I've been around the motherfuckin world
The fuck you know?
Yo everybody wanna talk shit
When you make a new album
It's not good as the last one
How many have sold? See all them
Cheap-ass niggas that review your record
Them suckers with fancy iPods
Like a bitch they download
And go on the internet like a booking
Agent asking you for a free show
They destroyed the goodness like somebody
Pissin in the snow
A bunch of underground groups
Fuckin up the game
Goin out with they ass out
And a cheap-ass band
For five hundred a night
That's the reason why Hip-Hop is dead
Your venue is booked up
With circus clown acts
That perform cheaply, in your local paper
I see the same lame niggas in the
Village Voice and the LA weekly
Doin them same bullshit gigs repeatedly
These cats performin for cold
Cuts and juice backstage
Need to stop immediately
People that can't find your
Record, stop lyin, and go to Virgin
Otherwise you should cut yourself in
The face like a surgeon
Always searchin on the web
Like you spend money
When the merchandise show up
You got thin money
Always talkin out yo' ass
Scratched: "shut the fuck up"
I remember when chicks used
To fuck a superstar
Now they want you to meet they
Boyfriend and go home with them
And meet they brother in the car
And play some rapper who's tryin
To be Kool Keith, that shit is bizarre
They gettin sick on the floor on
Drugs like Anna Nicole Smith
Vomitin every night they takin it too far
After I get off stage they
Wanna hop to another bar
C'mon man'! I got one night in your town
You're gonna play a bullshit guy on your
CD that sound like I sound
Promoters wanna talk shit and pull me down
Pick me up from the airport in a
Bullshit truck and drop me off
Bitch you ain't gotta take me around
I find the mall, any way to rejuvenate
"Is Keith gonna show up?" Oh you can hate
Hippie Euro savin bastard, I was there live
Right in London for two weeks
With my fuckin outfit
All these rumors how the fuck
They get in your head?
Where you hear this shit?
I'm in Paris tonight
I did, I quick and split
All them acts y'all call them niggas
Ain't no real showmen like
Bullshit rock bands with black t-shirts
What's creative about this? You tell me first
These people supportin 'em
Wear tight-ass pants
Skulls on they belt buckles be the worst
I've been in three hundred
Million ten magazines
What the fuck you gon' wait for
Me to die like James Brown
To put me on the cover of Spin magazine?
Pages out here that's full of
Untalented motherfuckers I've never seen
Young editors with a dick in
They mouth on the scene
I'm your fuckin kid's dream
Jewelry and a lot of pussy
Already I feel like I play
On a basketball team
Whatever you don't like you can hate
I know you a guy that just got
The job cause you fuckin fake
I take your chick out for
Dinner for a milkshake
You name a rapper you like
I'm not funny at all duke
I'll take a piss in his face
The fuck you know?
Yo everybody wanna talk shit
When you make a new album
It's not good as the last one
How many have sold? See all them
Cheap-ass niggas that review your record
Them suckers with fancy iPods
Like a bitch they download
And go on the internet like a booking
Agent asking you for a free show
They destroyed the goodness like somebody
Pissin in the snow
A bunch of underground groups
Fuckin up the game
Goin out with they ass out
And a cheap-ass band
For five hundred a night
That's the reason why Hip-Hop is dead
Your venue is booked up
With circus clown acts
That perform cheaply, in your local paper
I see the same lame niggas in the
Village Voice and the LA weekly
Doin them same bullshit gigs repeatedly
These cats performin for cold
Cuts and juice backstage
Need to stop immediately
People that can't find your
Record, stop lyin, and go to Virgin
Otherwise you should cut yourself in
The face like a surgeon
Always searchin on the web
Like you spend money
When the merchandise show up
You got thin money
Always talkin out yo' ass
Scratched: "shut the fuck up"
I remember when chicks used
To fuck a superstar
Now they want you to meet they
Boyfriend and go home with them
And meet they brother in the car
And play some rapper who's tryin
To be Kool Keith, that shit is bizarre
They gettin sick on the floor on
Drugs like Anna Nicole Smith
Vomitin every night they takin it too far
After I get off stage they
Wanna hop to another bar
C'mon man'! I got one night in your town
You're gonna play a bullshit guy on your
CD that sound like I sound
Promoters wanna talk shit and pull me down
Pick me up from the airport in a
Bullshit truck and drop me off
Bitch you ain't gotta take me around
I find the mall, any way to rejuvenate
"Is Keith gonna show up?" Oh you can hate
Hippie Euro savin bastard, I was there live
Right in London for two weeks
With my fuckin outfit
All these rumors how the fuck
They get in your head?
Where you hear this shit?
I'm in Paris tonight
I did, I quick and split
All them acts y'all call them niggas
Ain't no real showmen like
Bullshit rock bands with black t-shirts
What's creative about this? You tell me first
These people supportin 'em
Wear tight-ass pants
Skulls on they belt buckles be the worst
I've been in three hundred
Million ten magazines
What the fuck you gon' wait for
Me to die like James Brown
To put me on the cover of Spin magazine?
Pages out here that's full of
Untalented motherfuckers I've never seen
Young editors with a dick in
They mouth on the scene
I'm your fuckin kid's dream
Jewelry and a lot of pussy
Already I feel like I play
On a basketball team
Whatever you don't like you can hate
I know you a guy that just got
The job cause you fuckin fake
I take your chick out for
Dinner for a milkshake
You name a rapper you like
I'm not funny at all duke
I'll take a piss in his face