KHM could refer to:
KHM is an abbreviation of:
Keith Matthew Thornton, better known by his stage name Kool Keith, is an American rapper from The Bronx, New York. A founding member of Ultramagnetic MCs, Kool Keith has recorded prolifically both as a solo artist and in group collaborations. Kool Keith is the self-proclaimed inventor of horrorcore.
Kool Keith began his rap career with the group Ultramagnetic MCs. After the release of Critical Beatdown, Thornton was reportedly institutionalized in Bellevue Hospital Center. However, he later said that the idea that he was institutionalized came from a flippant remark made during a stressful interview and he never expected the story to become so well-known.
Thornton released his first notable solo single, "Earth People," in 1995, under the name Dr. Octagon, followed by the release of Dr. Octagonecologyst the following year. The album's production by Dan the Automator and Kutmasta Kurt, with scratching by DJ Qbert was acclaimed by critics, and the album was released nationally by DreamWorks Records, which also issued an instrumental version of the album, titled Instrumentalyst (Octagon Beats). Thornton followed the album with Sex Style in 1997 under the name Kool Keith.
[Marc Live:]
Executive business, this is the final destination
No movie screens, big garbage trucks
Cowboy boots, heavy machineries, you get shut down
Explosive corrosion on kids, we the next the last the best you never did it
You think you buggin out crazy kids?
We popped a lot of pills to see exactly what adolescents did
Caged in, the nightstalkers, ten to midnight
Sneak in your window with more "dynamite" than Jimmy Walker's
Oklahoma City your project, Richard Ramirez your complex
You got a messed up concept
You see a lot of kids records and tapes
won't go through they little sister's, dollhouse deluxe Barbie roof
Leave the bar immediately, you can't buy it out
You rappers ball with doubts
You kids are stallin out, you not as big as you supposed to be
Chicks like snitchin, defecate on your street rep
We know the business, don't front when you see me
Forget the House of Blues and backstage
City stressed out industry chicks in a rented Escalade
I'ma laugh and diss you when you get fired one week from today
No Def Jam interview segment, you're not stars yet
Regular people, they'll get rid of you people
[Chorus:]
Off the chain, one two one two
Off the chain, off the chain
Off the chain, off the chain
Off the chain
[Kool Keith:]
"Planet Rock" when we stand on top of the world
like Pow Wow, Mr. Biggs and GLOBE, with speed of a cheetah
In a Pontiac pearl girls know I'm the club invader
When the SSL move, automated vocals on the fader
Big face like green street, mixed down on a Pentac console
I bounce my amateur Pro Tools and unique
Watch rappers combat I create headaches, you take the contact
Easy man watch step, I'm midtown FDR drive controller
Helicopter flyer, women admire
New York 1 News tri-state to Connecticut area, traffic reporter
Lincoln Tunnel Greyhound, with bags comin under water from Cuba
Crossin the Miami border
Takin control we want ransom, we got your daughter
[Chorus:]
Off the chain, I'm off the chain
We off the chain, off the chain
Off the chain, off the chain
[H-Bomb:]
Yeah, you see it, you hear it
I play pianos, blast on Sopranos
Black Zorros, take trips from triangles
Finagles, 64 pounds of 'dro on two tables
Cables, bootleg stables, 7 hoes 3 with Desert Eagles
Fatal, strap blast 4 Winnebagos ables
to ask R. Kelly is that chick legal? Sequels
I never listened to the Village Peoples, equals
to instinct poison the BlackStreet blast heat
Kitties on my feet, Janet Jackson handin out flyers for keep Greek
Chicks with pimps sticks out the whip, beat down
Where's my shit, take the dip and dip
Call girls slip notes cutthroat
42 Singapore chicks on slave boats promote
Right to vote sniff coke under trenchcoats
Stun guns with high volts don't provoke
Blast crabs, lay dead in the gunsmoke
[Outro:]
Off the chain [x9]
We off the chain, off the chain
[Kool Keith]
Yeah..
Keith... M Live... H-Bomb..
New York City!... NEW!... 2002!
I'll bust a Rolodex, co-sign with fat checks
Move in your spot next
Have sex kid, with your fine ex
Production level, upgrade, I'm on the stage next
Level gambino, throw bombs like I'm Dan Marino
Girls excited - quick, tell me man, what he know
From Dallas and back, Miami down to Puerto Rico
Top all the people, rappers know I got ego
Buick with 20's on 'em, Cuban ladies in the Regal
That's on the Ito, spicy hot like burrito
Las Vegas bosso, the Riviera my casino
Bedrock shocker, my pit bull - call him Dino
I'm mister arso, kid 'cause no one equal
Elly, I'm Carrie though - opponent walks, think I'm evil
Nicest devices, kid call me Mighty Isis
[Chorus x3]
(What 'chu want now? What 'chu want?)
Time tickin', keep it pimpin'
(What 'chu want now? What 'chu want?)
Time tickin', U Jerk Chickens
[Marc Live]
What's up ma? Ey yo the bar's on us
A lot of weed, drunk up, and cars all nuts
Listen and learn kid, we bag y'all stunts, don't front
Leathers and Gator's, and all blown up
Front of the club your girl's throwin' up
They - spillin' and talkin', we left y'all sluts
We - move to cities, gritty committee
Jet us in the box... you better have the rock
Listen kid, yo we made it and we laid it
I spit some venom on it, so sip some Henny on it
Flaunt my style, I know that many want it
Bad chick, she told me how to do it
Leather boots and rips, yo we ran through it
You can't fake it, your girl wanna get naked
Let's get his head breakin', earth shakin', gyratin'
We get the money then we fade the spot
Clear the club then we spray the lot, we major hot
[Chorus x2.5]
(What 'chu want now? What 'chu want?)
Time tickin', keep it pimpin'
(What 'chu want now? What 'chu want?)
Time tickin', U Jerk Chickens
[H-Bomb]
Sex flicks, black whips, curved hips, she trips
Fits, booty hits, whipped chicks, puffed lips
Flips cash, paparazzi flash, rubber mask, 747 crash
Cash I found smashed
Ask Guns N' Roses, rock the slash
Flew through Louisiana to practice voo-doo, screw face
Backstage place, full paid
Jacky Jasper, huh, she goes both ways, stays - fifteen days
With Stan the white kid from the Sugar Ray's, slays
Samplin' jazz, corny blues, sound like Ma$e
Tunnel fazes, over, off tour
We kick off Tim's, Gator's
Land Rover's hit corners, undercovers plugged
No weak covers, I'll unveil your persona, thugs
With metal, he yellin' hard, it should settle
Don't even get involved, don't even mettle
I got the powder, heat, and water on the kettle
Beautiful Courtney court me, in the lobby jocked me, stop me
Big butt, G14, the hobby, yo knock me
But your off key, dress sloppy, your aunt, cop'll spot me
Your man Lenny Kravitz a carbon copy
Yo Keith, pick up the phone, it's J, it's Jacky
They try to catch me on a two-way pager, they can't track me
My hoes classy, refers nasty
Mules do drugs, runts, the passes - you got me?
[Chorus x3]
(What 'chu want now? What 'chu want?)
Time tickin', keep it pimpin'
(What 'chu want now? What 'chu want?)
Time tickin', U Jerk Chickens
(What 'chu want now? What 'chu want?)
[Kool Keith]
Sizin' your crew to a T
Removin' your section with A-Team clout
Scopin' your girls Calvin Klein jeans like Mr. T
Bronx to Brooklyn, Bayshore to Staten Island
We hit Van Courtland
Cross Montreal, Vancouver, back into Portland
Take your hand off the radio and turn your man off
I know guys like y'all who talk a lot be wackin' off
I own New York like the back of my hand
You need to dance now cause I'ma bring back American Bandstand
Move out and flirt, watch folds attack front with private jet work
MTV front you in the back, you get jerked
Lose that record label and facin' hard smirk
You f'in around with the enterprise
Scotty is on, better roll with Captain Kirk
Puffin' debts in my face to get you hurt
Horace Gracy'll kick you in the back of your shirt
Rush you to Harlem Hospital, no jokes a riddle
What instrument you play, nothin's funky about a fiddle
Girls wanna come upstairs and waste my time and giggle
[Chorus]
New York girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Atlanta girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Chicago girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
L.A. girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Miami girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Detroit girls, they wanna hang
(I don't think that they want you)
[H-Bomb]
Homicidal links your nations
Hospitalized without identifications, low tolerations
Impossible situations, deliberations
Y'all got a deal? Congratulations
Rotations, shocker
Ask Frankie Crocker, you knock her
Playboy photographer, star jock a curse
Rehearse, you get worse
Look and thirst, I burst
Like a Starburst purse
Fifty G's, chronic trees, ki's flew in from Belize, casualties
A heroin and speed, and trees
You naive, the game bleed
See your killers lead and mislead
Theodore Bundy, Theodore Kandinsky
Simply - murderin', don't tempt me
Shell me, clip full, unload 'til empty
Freestyle on simpty, centerfold's surround me
Jacky Jasper, two inch Ampec masters, these asses
Contract murderers bounce
Backpackers, Clive Davis renounce and announce
Freeze all accounts once
Y'all play this Game
Had the fame, things don't blow - explain things
Sustain, cash gains
We control your brains
[Chorus]
Dallas girls, they wanna hang out with me
Kentucky girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Memphis girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Denver girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Philly girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Virginia girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Austin girls, they wanna hang
(I don't think that they want you)
[Marc Live]
Yo, sit back, hold up, get back, give 'em that
No get back, retaliate - king of your city
Look out below, release the missile get you
Black truck loaded with five guys won't miss you
No time for lies, real thangs, fire missile
We got chicks too, we the pimps too
Box holes through, buy most too
Rhyme best, face off, open your chest (let 'em know)
K-H, nevertheless, murder the rest
It moves different in sick, you in the midst, yo
Yo where we at, where we go, how we spit
New York, 2010 with the twist shit
Your chick stripped to us, guys tip to us
Rolls flip to or drink fifth, trip to us
[Chorus]
Jersey girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Houston girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Tampa girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
South Carolina girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
North Carolina girls, they wanna hang out with me
(You really think they really want you?)
Cincinnati girls, they wanna hang
[H-Bomb:]
Yeah, uh-huh, uhh
You switch your pitch, which nigga smack yo' bitch
Ditch foes, cancel shows, fifth hoe's disclosed
Cheese, weed, shot ki's
Deez hoes pay fees overseas
Please no degrees low blow powder
Every hour power you follow allow our leaders critique and teach ya
Duct tape on the handle of the heater
Sip Beefeater, true believer
Put holes in your wifebeater
Meet the ones learnin, left heads turnin
Earnin, pockets showin, bank flowin, growin
Pain, fuckin sniff 'caine, you strange force
Resort, pipe bombs in county court, break North, support
Streets wet your feet, +Pimp to Eat+
Rhyme we eat, meetin hoes we fuck and delete
Complete format, step up your act, stay packed
Flat booty chicks nigga fuck that~!
[Chorus x2: Kool Keith]
I like to shine and sport, nice thangs
I like to wear my gators and big rangs
Drive around the town, in a Range
Let the girls c'mere, you keep the change
[Marc Live:]
This shit is so big! So don't be jealous when we blast through
Our big status make your girl feel it
She can't see us in the flesh kid (why not?) We no comp' for niggaz
Just enter your spot, cold force you to death (let's go)
Sick to your stomach, you're holdin your breath
A lot of smoke in my area, it's backroom shit
Velvet rope, good people doin bad dope
We arrogant, sport top chicks you marry kid, we never Hollywood
We take a supermodel back to the pissy hood, she's doin everything
Change your level, your town feel bling tremors
The new K-H, M; now listen close to the blueprint
Corny niggaz never come in, this is dark room
Speakeasy four o'clock shit red room, they know us instantly
There's no industry, we built the rep
Crack your neck extravagant when we step on your set
[Chorus x0.75]
[Kool Keith:]
I see you adaptin to your surroundings, beefin up your security
Every group is petrol, armored car protection
Ten cars follow you with groupies and models too
Bodyguard service got half of y'all stayin in a hired hotel (YEAH~!)
Scared to look out the window and nervous
Tinted glass at the red light got you passin every stop sign fast
Bringin 18 wannabe gangsters surroundin you first class
When you look over you shoulder stand there hired police officers I laugh
Haunted by evil lyrics, now you face the consequences with witchcraft
Dangerous areas, can't camouflage your record company staff
You do the math, and face opponents
Watch your rearview, and dominant king of voodoo
Chess moves and strategy let me see the fly car crash
and the midsection get brutal, break out you fuckin poodle
[Intro: Kool Keith]
Yo, you know what?
You could go to all the states in the world
See girls with long hair, flat stomachs
Goin' back and forth to the gym, workin' out
And they be talkin' to you
You get in New York... girls be frontin'
They have a little bit of tiny hair on they head
Or some just walk around with braids
You can't tell 'em nuttin'
Yo... they be killin' me
[H-Bomb]
Easy mon, blood clot, blood cleat with gold teeth
He peekin' at Kool Keith, Marc Live, and me
We - fly LAX to JFK, take it one way
You twisted, Jacky J ain't plan to stay
I'm on a one way, beamin' a poor chick in L.A.
Play - these chickens, break rules
I pack steels, do big drug deals
You in tennis shoes, where's your heels?
And you expect me to pay for these meals
Where's your spouse?
You live with your moms, is that a mouse
I'm breakin' out bounce, my man Ice-T got a penthouse
Four deep hits, scores, V.I.P.
We fingerbang chickens in lace, no space - fast race
Big Lonnie on Webster Ave with a screw face, briefcase
Three ki's taste with a rusty screw driver and waste
Your right hand man got replaced
You chase - baby makers, parts, heart breakers
Want papers - yes, them Murray gators huh?
You're man work in Manhattan up in Houlihan's as a waiters, laters
You worship them slave owners on green papers, haters
I'm back in L.A. with three hoes in a Wilshire skyscrapers
[Chorus x2]
New York belongs to me!
(Not him, or yooouuuu)
New York belongs to me!
(Not him, or yooouuuu)
[Marc Live]
I walk through your city like a juggernaut
You kids is astronauts, all in space
Right to your face, no welcome mats just welcome caps
A community of big city kids in black hats
Catch me in a New York strip club slappin' a phat ass
You don't get no pass, it's the big three - H, Marc, and Keith
Top general chiefs, no games, forget the friends baby
Let's go straight to the brains, an even exchange
No heated exchange, we show the hotel the after party
Lot of Bacardi and Limon, heavy smoke and plenty of grindin'
I left L.A. real quick to see who's rhymin' -
Who's talkin' mess and who's lyin'
Who shippin' weight express mail, no Greyhound - we flyin'
Forty-two street triple X, we buyin'
Hot 97 nigga gon' play us some new shit, or we gon' start ridin'
Me and Blaze up that spot, you know who we are
High profile, we not buyin' the bar, real grimey
One E & J, one Philly, and jake behind me... BX
[Chorus x1.5]
New York belongs to me!
(Not him, or yooouuuu)
New York belongs to me!
(Not him, or yooouuuu)
[Kool Keith]
I'ma tell you New Yorkers on lock down, the city is my boo
You shoulda called up Clue and made appointments
I'm qualified in the Metropolitan area
I shoulda been on the professional too
None of y'all rappers don't have a rule
Marketing plan out there, y'all know what to do
What up nizza?, with tight beats on destinctive tracks like the RZA
On four DAT's, computer sequence my formats
I step on MC's like subways, rest my feet on rats
8,000 rappers comin' out this summer posin' hard, rhymin' like pussycats
Y'all don't shoot nobody, half of y'all like to scratch -
Like kittens in a batch, most of y'all scared to light a match
Blow birthday candles, y'all dealin' with girls with love handles
Better yet, guys still standin' in front of Fat Beats lookin' for samples
I laught at you holdin' champagne tryin' to walk in the club like Rambo
[Chorus x2]
New York belongs to me!
(Not him, or yooouuuu)
New York belongs to me!
[Kool Keith:]
You wanna judge and rate albums motherfucker? KHM
Fuck you~! Take it personal
Devestating, piss on your champagne bottles, exclusive background
Nigga the closest y'all get to bitches is on bullshit sets
with rented video models, close your introduction, put your ear to the speakers
You fuckin played out, compared to Pony like M-1 sneakers
Fuck you motherfuckers on Star Trek cellular phones
Talkin to broke niggaz with doo rags
Got the nerve to beam in the other broke motherfuckers with platinum beepers
With jealous stripes across your face like Adidas, unimportant material niggaz
Y'all some Lucky Charms cereal niggaz
Fuck miscellaneous parties, summer jam action, y'all face the Tony Hanna boots
Fuck up your cartoon shirt, I'm imperial niggaz
Fuck your game up with saddle soap, comedian stage set-up
Pull covers on top of you, you a fuckin joke, ask Steve Harvey
Your camera flash on corny-ass critics, reflect off my leather coat
You gobble and digest, fans swallow what I wrote
Fuck actin fly, dancin to homo tracks on fuckin boats
You collect jazz records, fuck Max Roach
Sideline nigga, youse a fuckin coach
[Chorus:]
Game recognize game - youse a sucka nigga
New face nigga, starin and schemin
Game recognize game - youse a suckin nigga
New face nigga, starin and schemin
[Marc Live:]
Get on the pole bitch, let's go, now do your thing chick
Shake your shit, we don't wanna hear shit
Breakin out, we got the bus out back
Dress you up, take a flick in the back, toss you up in the back
We sick (let's go) but we accustomed to that
And chick, we gonna bust on your back
Jugganot track pushin you back, lightspeed niggaz
Strip your chick; you're too slow to react
I told your bitch, don't be callin me back
I sent her home, with my dick on her back, now she's a witness to tha
Uhh, now she's a victim of that
Tell her man, don't be rippin at that, sucka nigga whassup
Yo, you New York kids, we different than that
Yo we stalk kids, so don't be sleepin on that - uhh
Yo I be laughin when you sleep on your back
From the back I blast, one in your back
[Chorus]
[H-Bomb:]
Uhh, dump and dip, empty the clip
Trip with entourages, strip 5-11 roll with life 7
Double K they settle it quick metal it, drill it
For villain fam it's easy, we spillin blood kill 2-faces
Catch cases, choke you wit'cha own shoelaces
Places and faces get replaced, sensation's death
Upset homicidal let's get murder and don't forget task force
Blast big boss of course jewels in back of The Source we floss
With no remorse, thuggin homo, rainbow Rambo, nude photo
So, strawberry milk, you listenin to Sisqo yo look
Fuck the nice singin the kids in the hook
I'm shook and took women who act like men
Men who act gangsta strangle a fake gangbanger
Your CEO nothin profess to Richard Gere playin with pet hampsters
[Kool Keith:]
Yo H, turn on the TV
This guy like here look just like me
Look at everything that he's doing
He is what you call a clone
Look at his wigs, costumes
A whole replacement
He got no shame, look
Look at you copyin my style, actin like you creative
Flauntin your costumes and wigs
With some old fake wannabe French rap junk
My son take it personal, you and me
Ask everybody in your record company how you follow me and swallow me
You got the nerve to get the pace and rap fast, youse a rap ass
Walkin around in clown gear, you come down here
I gave birth to you
Yeah for you to be different ask anybody down South
How you talk with white stuff around your mouth
The nerve of you, with no tight rhymes, I must serve to you
Uncle Tom Buckwheat boy, youse a local town toy
And your man just started rappin yesterday
Y'all didn't even take the test today
Pay your dues and step out of my rap shoes
And tell the truth to John Sallie on NBC News
Uncreative black boy, you whack boy
Actin like you a genius, notice I called you boy
[Chorus:]
Copy what you want to, steal my stuff
You can copy this if you want to
Copy what you want to, steal my stuff
You can copy this if you want to
Copy what you want to, steal my stuff
[H-Bomb:]
You can flow jock detox Fort Knox sportin Red Sox
Stuff affected my uncle's Red Foxx box
Niggaz, collaborate with cheese on crackers
Jackers with Keith Rock quarterbackin for the Green Bay Packers
Actors, and actresses evacuate the premises
Y'all be out there like them two sisters with nappy hair
and corn row plated tail extenders
Message style is softer than Jill Scott, you don't even have a spot
Kool Keith lookalikes, Dr. Dre clones, memory log
Record companies signin kids that act like Snoop Dogg
Jog, 20 laps forced to cheat on my income tax relax
Beyonce's lookin for her green contacts
Ask, me who I come with, ask me who I know
You checked into Uncle Tom's Cabin with Benz green
At a buck show below prices you don't know what nice is
Don't ask me how much for my leathers and ostriches
You don't know what the price is
[Chorus: x4 with ad libs]
Copy what you want to, steal my stuff
You can copy this if you want to
[Marc Live:]
Executive decisions you bit for years, you know you drink beers
You can't change your lifestyle in one year
You crazy, it's hard to rhyme
Bitch jump in the booth like it's party time
I know some kids that died shufflin and tappin
I stopped dancin in '88
I'll start clappin, you just wait
You late and figured out, scientists mixed my formula
A lot of chemists own funky prototypes, you'll never sound like me
Cheap and choppy, you sweatin bullets, workin hard
Pamela said get a job
You slob, we picket your company
With Molotovs, burn down the WB
You get the tin cup, they don't know you!
Monkeys with a box of tunes, jockin now you're just buffoons
They'll replace you soon
Your kids won't be safe at school, ridiculed and ran off campus
No longer famous, you boys remember Amos
Dandy, Michael and Randy, Monica and Brandy
I don't need your two cent Grammy
(You can copy this if you want to)
[Chorus: x4 with ad libs]
Copy what you want to, steal my stuff
You can copy this if you want to
[Outro:]
You can copy this all the way