Kool Keith - Cold Peein' On Em lyrics
[Kool Keith - Cold Peein' On Em lyrics]
I make you drip-drop and bop
And swing and move your head back
When you're driving your car
You listen close to the star
Rhythm X I funk flock fleet and flowaway
Garbage I throwaway to take it
To the pickup truck
Suckas don't give a beep necks
Don't give a beat
I bet a buck on your wife, I make another hit
Stomp my comp out and swing like yogi berra
Get another buick, a brand new riviera
Green coupe mercedes, a rolls royce maybe
Have madonna on tour with the
Carriage in my baby
Little Rhythm X first, second Poppa large
If a girl come in third we'll
Name em' Mary J blarge
My funky style, with my funky freaky rhythm
Keep the brothers on the corner with
The gossip in the rhythm
I know I'm bad too the bone i hang alone
Crusin in style, i wanna flex
(cold peein' on em)
Continue I ease back and
Stretch in my limousine
Look at the corny rappers who're
Faking and wilin' mean
I know I'm hungry as hell, I hit your barrels
Italian kids, with my tape in they camero's
I'm not down with the?mirk, merkts?
The chicken curry
Saving that old cash, they vision blurry
They say who rhythm? who X?
He ain't a pop group but every time I look a
Wacker rapper drop troop
I funk styles, I make styles, freestyles
I pump styles, I write styles, see styles
I jack styles, prepare em then I hook em up
I'm?rugged rug? with a pen, then a pad
I make emcees walk up, 'yo keith you bad
I'll give you my girl for
Every rhyme in the world'
One million, two million, three million, four
I move and take the money with
His girl through the door
Crusin in style, i wanna flex
(cold peein' on em)
Yo gimme a pound, Yo gimme a pound
Yo gimme a pound, yeah, yeah, I know I'm down
I listen to old tapes
My favorite James Brown not an emcee bean
Dropping bright stinky nights
Let me pee on the mike and
Wake em up with this style
Have the ladies on my tip
They know I'm sweaty style
I don't sing-sing
And jingle with jing-a-ling
Critics can look and zippy-zap
See my ding-a-ling
I write the rhymes your moms like
The rhymes your pops like
Then throw your tape out the window right?
They know the X is hype
They know the X is dope
They know the X is no joke
YEAH, yo put the crack down man
Stop sniffing coke
I see my chauffeur is ready
The black rolls royce
Crusin in style, i wanna flex
(cold peein' on em)
And swing and move your head back
When you're driving your car
You listen close to the star
Rhythm X I funk flock fleet and flowaway
Garbage I throwaway to take it
To the pickup truck
Suckas don't give a beep necks
Don't give a beat
I bet a buck on your wife, I make another hit
Stomp my comp out and swing like yogi berra
Get another buick, a brand new riviera
Green coupe mercedes, a rolls royce maybe
Have madonna on tour with the
Carriage in my baby
Little Rhythm X first, second Poppa large
If a girl come in third we'll
Name em' Mary J blarge
My funky style, with my funky freaky rhythm
Keep the brothers on the corner with
The gossip in the rhythm
I know I'm bad too the bone i hang alone
Crusin in style, i wanna flex
(cold peein' on em)
Continue I ease back and
Stretch in my limousine
Look at the corny rappers who're
Faking and wilin' mean
I know I'm hungry as hell, I hit your barrels
Italian kids, with my tape in they camero's
I'm not down with the?mirk, merkts?
The chicken curry
Saving that old cash, they vision blurry
They say who rhythm? who X?
He ain't a pop group but every time I look a
Wacker rapper drop troop
I funk styles, I make styles, freestyles
I pump styles, I write styles, see styles
I jack styles, prepare em then I hook em up
I'm?rugged rug? with a pen, then a pad
I make emcees walk up, 'yo keith you bad
I'll give you my girl for
Every rhyme in the world'
One million, two million, three million, four
I move and take the money with
His girl through the door
Crusin in style, i wanna flex
(cold peein' on em)
Yo gimme a pound, Yo gimme a pound
Yo gimme a pound, yeah, yeah, I know I'm down
I listen to old tapes
My favorite James Brown not an emcee bean
Dropping bright stinky nights
Let me pee on the mike and
Wake em up with this style
Have the ladies on my tip
They know I'm sweaty style
I don't sing-sing
And jingle with jing-a-ling
Critics can look and zippy-zap
See my ding-a-ling
I write the rhymes your moms like
The rhymes your pops like
Then throw your tape out the window right?
They know the X is hype
They know the X is dope
They know the X is no joke
YEAH, yo put the crack down man
Stop sniffing coke
I see my chauffeur is ready
The black rolls royce
Crusin in style, i wanna flex
(cold peein' on em)