Call the Cops

Dr. DooomDr. Dooom 

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Dr. Dooom

Keith Matthew Thornton (born October 7, 1963), better known by his stage name Kool Keith, is an American rapper and record producer from The Bronx, New York City, known for his surreal, abstract and often profane or incomprehensible lyrics. Kool Keith has recorded prolifically both as a solo artist and in group collaborations. Kool Keith is generally considered to be one of hip-hop's most eccentric and unusual personalities.Kool Keith was a cofounding member of Ultramagnetic MCs, whose debut Critical Beatdown was released in 1988. After two more albums with the group, Funk Your Head Up and The Four Horsemen, Kool Keith released his critically acclaimed solo debut album, Dr. Octagonecologyst under the name Dr. Octagon in 1996. He subsequently released a series… more »

Year:

1999

4:16

148 Views

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[Dr. Dooom]
Jacky you keep them rollers in your hair
With that plastic on your head huh?
Man, hey Keith who did your jheri curls man? They look good
I seen y'all this morning on Cops man

They had y'all pictures, all your profiles and everything
Y'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 pianoes
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 y'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
Y'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, y'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

[Jacky] 
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, 69 flavors
Behavior's, smokin glass with coleslaw hangin out your ass

Take a blast, I'm travellin 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 crossdress 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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