Dr. Dooom

Dr. Dooom - Apartment 223 lyrics

Your rating:


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....
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Language: English

Share your thoughts

This form is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

0 Comments found