Call the Cops Lyrics
| Song | Call the Cops |
| Artist | Dr. Dooom |
| Album | First Come, First Served |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| you keep them rollers in ya hair with that plastic all on ya head, huh | |
| Man, Hey, | |
| Keith, who did ya gerry curls, man, look good | |
| I seen ya’ll this mornin on ‘ | |
| Cops,’ man, they had ya’ll pictures and all ya profiles and everything, ya’ll should stay low. | |
| Gene called. | |
| He need five dollas. (Dr. Dooom) | |
| Ultimate focus behind ya neck can’t reflex with text on your lyrical index | |
| Stop the masses rotate the fastest | |
| Afro gerry curl world, get ignited re-invited on your main sources like the | |
| Enforcers | |
| Sub-machines spray your | |
| Liberace pianos | |
| Free-style ambulances ring out your new dances | |
| While ya’ll can’t rap we took your ampex, we have protective custody | |
| Got your face disgustin’ me | |
| Wit’ animal-like instincts | |
| I left a dead gorilla in the skatin’ rink | |
| Penetrated your | |
| Gap jeans with | |
| Black & Decker machines | |
| Alternate your | |
| Scullies, catch dead rats in | |
| Saran Wrap | |
| Put used diapers on your windshield wipers | |
| Make you eat your own feces, ?sell yourleardrumbelices? | |
| Pull out your colon leave your glands swollen | |
| Uncircumcised between your mom’s thighs | |
| That’s right, wit a face like | |
| Michael Myers | |
| I clip the ears off your body guards with some bloody pliers | |
| Bound to eat a | |
| German Shepard in the | |
| Mohave Desert | |
| While ya’ll talk gangsta | |
| I push body carts in shopping carts | |
| Leave wigs on streets on | |
| Melrose so coroners can smell those | |
| Arms for three days, with three legs in the back seat ya’ll get the back heat? | |
| With the police department scared to look at my apartment | |
| Three weeks ago | |
| I dumped a bag of legs with beer kegs | |
| Went to Ralph’s and bought a six pack and some eggs | |
| Seen my face in the paper wit a beard, went home and shaved | |
| Took out ya bodies in the pickup truck back to the grave | |
| Drinkin’ Yoo- | |
| Hoos and doughnuts, ya’ll punks think | |
| I’m so nuts | |
| Walkin’ in hospital roooms like the black | |
| Dr. Dooom | |
| Push you in the wheelchair out the window down the steps like | |
| Iancide(sic.) | |
| You run and hide | |
| Handicap wit no maps | |
| I’m after you throw gas at you. (The projects called the cops) | |
| The F.B.I. got our fingerprints | |
| Heavy big weights, we move in alternate states (The projects called the cops.) (Muthafucka') (Jackie Jasper) | |
| Jackie Jasper wit illegal drugs, sell for the thugs: | |
| A bag of penises and twenty butt plugs, | |
| Persian rugs | |
| Wit dead bodies on it, call | |
| Colombo, who dunnit, solve it | |
| And I’ll revolve it | |
| And hold it, to the war to the hogs to the dogs? | |
| A vagina with bugs, rubs, cubs, getting fellatio | |
| Ratio fa sho’. | |
| Positive why | |
| I die I live comatose tomato juice and | |
| Cherry Ho’s and toast | |
| Santa Barbara at the | |
| Barbie coast most? | |
| Chicks licks black holes | |
| French expose | |
| Wastin’ my children on her clothes that went up her nose, suppose? | |
| I penetrated ya neck wit a | |
| Bic pen Wit a belt around my waist like | |
| Bookmen? Don’t ask my neighbors, bodies dead, sixty-nine flavors, behaviors | |
| Smokin’ glass wit coleslaw hangin’ out ya ass | |
| Take a blast, | |
| I’m travelin’ fast, pass a nymphomaniac | |
| Diggin’ up corpse | |
| I’m a necrophiliac getting my chick back | |
| In an up-smack | |
| Had that head bobbin,’ joggin,’ cyclin,’ recyclin.’ | |
| Connivin,’ arrivin,’ hearse drivin’ it’s even. | |
| Seven heads, ten horns, believing. | |
| Evil demon | |
| As Stella | |
| Steven retreatin’ you’re beatin’ | |
| Eatin’ dead puss. | |
| Sardine can smell from here to hell. | |
| A gladiator wit tights under disco lights. | |
| Blowin’ a harmonica, yo, in | |
| Santa Monica in a | |
| Honda Name dazzle night fall the press cross dressed your name | |
| Rhonda? Call | |
| Macero? Call | |
| Dan-O, call | |
| Cello? Five- | |
| O rollin’ in a | |
| Pinto from | |
| Ohio, Toledo, down to | |
| San Pedro | |
| Believe me, ho, | |
| I sold Curtis the blow. | |
| The F.B.I. got our fingerprints | |
| Heavy big weights, we move to alternate states (The projects called the cops) (Book em’) |
| you keep them rollers in ya hair with that plastic all on ya head, huh | |
| Man, Hey, | |
| Keith, who did ya gerry curls, man, look good | |
| I seen ya' ll this mornin on ' | |
| Cops,' man, they had ya' ll pictures and all ya profiles and everything, ya' ll should stay low. | |
| Gene called. | |
| He need five dollas. Dr. Dooom | |
| Ultimate focus behind ya neck can' t reflex with text on your lyrical index | |
| Stop the masses rotate the fastest | |
| Afro gerry curl world, get ignited reinvited on your main sources like the | |
| Enforcers | |
| Submachines spray your | |
| Liberace pianos | |
| Freestyle ambulances ring out your new dances | |
| While ya' ll can' t rap we took your ampex, we have protective custody | |
| Got your face disgustin' me | |
| Wit' animallike instincts | |
| I left a dead gorilla in the skatin' rink | |
| Penetrated your | |
| Gap jeans with | |
| Black Decker machines | |
| Alternate your | |
| Scullies, catch dead rats in | |
| Saran Wrap | |
| Put used diapers on your windshield wipers | |
| Make you eat your own feces, ? sell yourleardrumbelices? | |
| Pull out your colon leave your glands swollen | |
| Uncircumcised between your mom' s thighs | |
| That' s right, wit a face like | |
| Michael Myers | |
| I clip the ears off your body guards with some bloody pliers | |
| Bound to eat a | |
| German Shepard in the | |
| Mohave Desert | |
| While ya' ll talk gangsta | |
| I push body carts in shopping carts | |
| Leave wigs on streets on | |
| Melrose so coroners can smell those | |
| Arms for three days, with three legs in the back seat ya' ll get the back heat? | |
| With the police department scared to look at my apartment | |
| Three weeks ago | |
| I dumped a bag of legs with beer kegs | |
| Went to Ralph' s and bought a six pack and some eggs | |
| Seen my face in the paper wit a beard, went home and shaved | |
| Took out ya bodies in the pickup truck back to the grave | |
| Drinkin' Yoo | |
| Hoos and doughnuts, ya' ll punks think | |
| I' m so nuts | |
| Walkin' in hospital roooms like the black | |
| Dr. Dooom | |
| Push you in the wheelchair out the window down the steps like | |
| Iancide sic. | |
| You run and hide | |
| Handicap wit no maps | |
| I' m after you throw gas at you. The projects called the cops | |
| The F. B. I. got our fingerprints | |
| Heavy big weights, we move in alternate states The projects called the cops. Muthafucka' Jackie Jasper | |
| Jackie Jasper wit illegal drugs, sell for the thugs: | |
| A bag of penises and twenty butt plugs, | |
| Persian rugs | |
| Wit dead bodies on it, call | |
| Colombo, who dunnit, solve it | |
| And I' ll revolve it | |
| And hold it, to the war to the hogs to the dogs? | |
| A vagina with bugs, rubs, cubs, getting fellatio | |
| Ratio fa sho'. | |
| Positive why | |
| I die I live comatose tomato juice and | |
| Cherry Ho' s and toast | |
| Santa Barbara at the | |
| Barbie coast most? | |
| Chicks licks black holes | |
| French expose | |
| Wastin' my children on her clothes that went up her nose, suppose? | |
| I penetrated ya neck wit a | |
| Bic pen Wit a belt around my waist like | |
| Bookmen? Don' t ask my neighbors, bodies dead, sixtynine flavors, behaviors | |
| Smokin' glass wit coleslaw hangin' out ya ass | |
| Take a blast, | |
| I' m travelin' fast, pass a nymphomaniac | |
| Diggin' up corpse | |
| I' m a necrophiliac getting my chick back | |
| In an upsmack | |
| Had that head bobbin,' joggin,' cyclin,' recyclin.' | |
| Connivin,' arrivin,' hearse drivin' it' s even. | |
| Seven heads, ten horns, believing. | |
| Evil demon | |
| As Stella | |
| Steven retreatin' you' re beatin' | |
| Eatin' dead puss. | |
| Sardine can smell from here to hell. | |
| A gladiator wit tights under disco lights. | |
| Blowin' a harmonica, yo, in | |
| Santa Monica in a | |
| Honda Name dazzle night fall the press cross dressed your name | |
| Rhonda? Call | |
| Macero? Call | |
| DanO, call | |
| Cello? Five | |
| O rollin' in a | |
| Pinto from | |
| Ohio, Toledo, down to | |
| San Pedro | |
| Believe me, ho, | |
| I sold Curtis the blow. | |
| The F. B. I. got our fingerprints | |
| Heavy big weights, we move to alternate states The projects called the cops Book em' |
| you keep them rollers in ya hair with that plastic all on ya head, huh | |
| Man, Hey, | |
| Keith, who did ya gerry curls, man, look good | |
| I seen ya' ll this mornin on ' | |
| Cops,' man, they had ya' ll pictures and all ya profiles and everything, ya' ll should stay low. | |
| Gene called. | |
| He need five dollas. Dr. Dooom | |
| Ultimate focus behind ya neck can' t reflex with text on your lyrical index | |
| Stop the masses rotate the fastest | |
| Afro gerry curl world, get ignited reinvited on your main sources like the | |
| Enforcers | |
| Submachines spray your | |
| Liberace pianos | |
| Freestyle ambulances ring out your new dances | |
| While ya' ll can' t rap we took your ampex, we have protective custody | |
| Got your face disgustin' me | |
| Wit' animallike instincts | |
| I left a dead gorilla in the skatin' rink | |
| Penetrated your | |
| Gap jeans with | |
| Black Decker machines | |
| Alternate your | |
| Scullies, catch dead rats in | |
| Saran Wrap | |
| Put used diapers on your windshield wipers | |
| Make you eat your own feces, ? sell yourleardrumbelices? | |
| Pull out your colon leave your glands swollen | |
| Uncircumcised between your mom' s thighs | |
| That' s right, wit a face like | |
| Michael Myers | |
| I clip the ears off your body guards with some bloody pliers | |
| Bound to eat a | |
| German Shepard in the | |
| Mohave Desert | |
| While ya' ll talk gangsta | |
| I push body carts in shopping carts | |
| Leave wigs on streets on | |
| Melrose so coroners can smell those | |
| Arms for three days, with three legs in the back seat ya' ll get the back heat? | |
| With the police department scared to look at my apartment | |
| Three weeks ago | |
| I dumped a bag of legs with beer kegs | |
| Went to Ralph' s and bought a six pack and some eggs | |
| Seen my face in the paper wit a beard, went home and shaved | |
| Took out ya bodies in the pickup truck back to the grave | |
| Drinkin' Yoo | |
| Hoos and doughnuts, ya' ll punks think | |
| I' m so nuts | |
| Walkin' in hospital roooms like the black | |
| Dr. Dooom | |
| Push you in the wheelchair out the window down the steps like | |
| Iancide sic. | |
| You run and hide | |
| Handicap wit no maps | |
| I' m after you throw gas at you. The projects called the cops | |
| The F. B. I. got our fingerprints | |
| Heavy big weights, we move in alternate states The projects called the cops. Muthafucka' Jackie Jasper | |
| Jackie Jasper wit illegal drugs, sell for the thugs: | |
| A bag of penises and twenty butt plugs, | |
| Persian rugs | |
| Wit dead bodies on it, call | |
| Colombo, who dunnit, solve it | |
| And I' ll revolve it | |
| And hold it, to the war to the hogs to the dogs? | |
| A vagina with bugs, rubs, cubs, getting fellatio | |
| Ratio fa sho'. | |
| Positive why | |
| I die I live comatose tomato juice and | |
| Cherry Ho' s and toast | |
| Santa Barbara at the | |
| Barbie coast most? | |
| Chicks licks black holes | |
| French expose | |
| Wastin' my children on her clothes that went up her nose, suppose? | |
| I penetrated ya neck wit a | |
| Bic pen Wit a belt around my waist like | |
| Bookmen? Don' t ask my neighbors, bodies dead, sixtynine flavors, behaviors | |
| Smokin' glass wit coleslaw hangin' out ya ass | |
| Take a blast, | |
| I' m travelin' fast, pass a nymphomaniac | |
| Diggin' up corpse | |
| I' m a necrophiliac getting my chick back | |
| In an upsmack | |
| Had that head bobbin,' joggin,' cyclin,' recyclin.' | |
| Connivin,' arrivin,' hearse drivin' it' s even. | |
| Seven heads, ten horns, believing. | |
| Evil demon | |
| As Stella | |
| Steven retreatin' you' re beatin' | |
| Eatin' dead puss. | |
| Sardine can smell from here to hell. | |
| A gladiator wit tights under disco lights. | |
| Blowin' a harmonica, yo, in | |
| Santa Monica in a | |
| Honda Name dazzle night fall the press cross dressed your name | |
| Rhonda? Call | |
| Macero? Call | |
| DanO, call | |
| Cello? Five | |
| O rollin' in a | |
| Pinto from | |
| Ohio, Toledo, down to | |
| San Pedro | |
| Believe me, ho, | |
| I sold Curtis the blow. | |
| The F. B. I. got our fingerprints | |
| Heavy big weights, we move to alternate states The projects called the cops Book em' |
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