Kool Keith

Lyrics Appartment 223 Kool Keith

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Appartment 223


Do not ring the bell, there is nobody home

The spirits around will haunt you, do not ring the bell

There is nobody home

Apartment 223,(
Scratch: I'm very hungry) (3x)

Apartment 223 with body parts under my bed

cut your abdomen out stab your fuckin leather coat

I chant while candles burn with robes on

You will learn

Christian no Hebrew on the the balcony I see you

The devils coffin with corpse of course

In a mental state earthquake

Schitzophrenic eatin' Campbells soup

Takin a piss urinalysis test

I hope you wear a fuckin bullet proof vest

Just purchased the charter arms .38

Then you entered the confetti hell gate

On the pee(?) floor bloody towels on sculptures

Machine gun suitcases, for all you niggaz with 2 faces

Mass murder, should have been in San Quentin

I'm doin'life to ten, when I come home you goddamn

right I'm goin back again

Fuck the drinks on the table

While you sleep I take pictures of bullets in your navel

Open your face and pour milk in your forehead

Count the bodies, that's four dead

Look behind your fuckin' back

With the drill bit in your ass crack, EXTREME PRESSURE

Teach you a lesson

Fuck your confession of evil I march with black sheep on the Sunset streets

With hoods like Dracula

I walk in back of ya

Draggin you stomach parts to McDonalds

Drink Absolut bottles and bottles, while you tryin'

to fuck with the most exotic models

[Chorus]

As you see the sign, beware of animals

A fuckin wild habitat

My living room is the wilderness with spots on

my carpet

practicing my gun targets

Virtual reality is a rough end to yor career

set you on fire in a leather chair

Using charcoal to broil

Rap you jealous eyeballs in aluminum foil

Wearin' Masses(masks) on the telephone talkin to

your black asses, with stocking caps I reach

I'm takin'your ass in a rented van to Venice Beach

In a cardboard box

Beatin' down your knees with a bag of Master locks

Police can't hear you with a dead body tied near you

It's hot, I 'm drinkin' soda with a tech-9 sprayin'

your fan belt motor

Stop the bullshit, blast you hands of the hood

I pull quick

Video tape you in a puddle of blood with razors in

your dick

With an extra clip I move your torso

Spit on you hips

With Mac-11 vice grips, surgery is major

With my sneakers stompin' on your pager

With my cup of Maxwell coffee, I like niggas whose

bossy

Fuck the critics I press your back

Steam burn through your straight leg jeans

Soakin your bones out in the washing machine, with

tide soap in the laundromat you witness the killing

Your man got scared called Riverdale with a baseball

hat, took a cab to Hawthorne

I know where he's goin'

You can't hide in an empty apartment with a matress

and no protection, with a New York psycho

Bombshells in the Hollywood section

I'm pressin bells and bells and bells till you fuckin

let me in

[Chorus]

Follow you on tour like a haunted nightmare

Kickin' in your intestines like Rick Flair

Standin' by the Mobil gas station with a flamethrower

and a fuckin lawnmower, throwin big lighters at your fuel tank

I smash your face in the elestric window, piss on

your fenders

With my ubbrella up like the Avengers

Plead guily in court bring glocks through security

x-reays going for the worlds record

Shut the fuck up about music, I'm playin' checkers

with blood Polo shirts

Lookin' at the fireworks

on the dirty ass terrace

Bones in 'fridgerators spring water and lettuce

Fuck it if your jealous

Gather crackers with flowers around 'em

Keep you eyes around 'em

Buck dishes, dial your ambulance I'm on a mission

Open up your shin guards in tinfoil

Warmin' my bread and Saurkraut while your legs boil

Ketchup and Mustard, Fuck voodoo

Paint on my face lookin off my roof like Shaka Zulu

Surroundin you area for the biggest mass hysteria

Muhammed don't (he mad?)

While you motherfuckers eat pork I tast real humans

on my fork

[Chorus x4]

[Frankenstien's assistant type voice]

You do not see anything on the table? (Chairs

squeak against floor) Well wait until I get the box....

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Biografia

Kool Keith, born Keith Matthew Thornton, is an American rapper and record producer from New York City, born in 1964. Considered one of the pioneers of experimental hip hop, Kool Keith stands out for his eccentric rap style, characterized by intricate rhymes, innovative flow, and surreal lyrics that range from science fiction to horror. He began his career in the 1980s with the group Ultramagnetic MCs, contributing to defining the jazz rap aesthetic. After leaving the group, he launched a prolific solo career, releasing albums such as "Sex Style" (1996), "Dr. Octagon" (1996) and "Black Elvis/Lost in Space" (2003). Kool Keith is known for his collaborations with artists like DJ Premier, Dan the Automator, and MF DOOM. Some of his most representative tracks include "The Bomb", "Space Is The Place" and "Dr. Octagon's Theme".

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