| Tight grip on the tech-9, now it’s time to creep
|
| Hollow tips, in the clip, puttin' suckas in a deep sleep
|
| Win, lose, or draw yo gat
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| Die if you ain’t quick enough
|
| Or end up at 201
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| Just because you think you tough
|
| Niggas in the med, now they dead, from the uzi round
|
| Trick was found, bloody on the ground, down in orange mound
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| Hole, in his dome, from the chrome, dat my hand held
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| Cuts, on the hoe, where I whooped 'em with da fanbelt
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| Bitches think i’m soft, cuz I treat them with respect
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| But I won’t hesitate to smoke a bitch wit my tech
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| 9 millimeta beata if I feel dat I should hit that ho
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| Smack, step back, & watch that ho hit the floor
|
| Niggas on the gank might do better at a bank
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| Cuz i’m packin' what you lackin' and i’m shootin' like a tank
|
| Its the p.i.m.p-ah
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| The funky m.c.-ah
|
| The niggas dats droppin dem bitches wit my 9 millimeta
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| 1 little, 2 little, 3 little tricks
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| 4 little, 5 little bitches on my dick
|
| 6 little, 7 little, 8 little niggas make 9 little millimeta boys (boys)
|
| (MJG)
|
| 9 little millimeta nigga, how you figure
|
| Its a chance, talkin shit, wit ya gun in ya pants
|
| I’m’a step on your ass like a stepbrother
|
| Looks as if to me dat you a mothafuckin death lover
|
| Weak ass boy, wit a toy on da street
|
| Cappin on the right mothafucka til he meet
|
| The wrong mothafuckin pimp tight, operator
|
| Who shoot a nigga first, and then reason wit em later
|
| Now punks, trip me out, wit a gun and no clip
|
| Catchin nothin but a charge cuz he wanna be hip- but ya slipped
|
| Anyway, when ya left witout ya bullets
|
| Now be a stupid fool, reach for it then pull it
|
| But you ain’t, cuz u can’t, pull a gun wit no ammo
|
| You thinkn you can beat it but you know you ain’t rambo
|
| So its best you try to beg for ya life to stay alive
|
| Cuz tricks, gettin dey dome blown away wit 25
|
| And all about da popppin me a clip in get hip
|
| You betta pack yo bags, cuz you goin on a trip
|
| Dis shit is thick as heinz, and da shit is gettin thicker.. .for da 9 little
|
| millimeta nigga
|
| (hook)
|
| (oh shit, I’m hit)
|
| Is there a doctor in the house? |
| (shit, I’m hit)
|
| Damn, I think I’m dyin (shit, I’m hit)
|
| Please call the doctor! |
| (shit, I’m hit)
|
| (8ball)
|
| The mothafuckin pigs wanna fuck up da game
|
| Sending niggas to jail, because dey sell cocaine
|
| Rocks of crack, make stacks of dead presidents
|
| Junkies fiendin for a hit, fucks up my residence
|
| 5-o, creepin tryna catch a nigga serve one
|
| Thats, when I got my mothafuckin shotgun
|
| Niggas in da bushes tryna rob me for what I got
|
| Watch dem bitches scatter when I unload, da buckshots
|
| Jack- or be jacked, creep- or get creeped on
|
| But nigga don’t step wrong, cuz 8ball keep a tone
|
| And if ya shoot at me I hope ya hit me and kill me dead
|
| Cuz if I dont die, I’m puttin a hole in yo fuckin head
|
| Scandalous hoes, love a nigga dats beldum
|
| Play dat innocent role, and have a nigga fucked up
|
| She’ll suck ya dick and then ya fall in love
|
| While ya at home sleepin, she sellin pussy at da club
|
| But look here hoes, I won’t go out like a punk bitch
|
| It takes more to get me, den fuckin and suckin dick
|
| Dont disrespect me, cuz ho I’m the truth
|
| 9 little millimeta niggas smoke bitches too
|
| (hook)
|
| (oh shit, I’m hit)
|
| Is there a doctor in the house? |
| (shit, I’m hit)
|
| Damn, I think I’m dyin (shit, I’m hit)
|
| Please call the doctor! |
| (shit, I’m hit)
|
| (MJG)
|
| I tote a mothafuckin tone, when I gotta roam, cuz pimps dont play
|
| And I gotta stay, where young black niggas obey
|
| Some kinda rule or strategy, cuz I can’t be havin the
|
| Shit from no nigga who think his tone is backin me
|
| Away from da shit he talk, da shit ain’t worth bein heard
|
| I’m thinkin bout cappin domes, you ain’t shootin shit but birds
|
| For nigas who totin shanks, I hope you young niggas think
|
| To creep from a pimps backside before you take his bank
|
| Cuz I ain’t no mothafuckin target, ain’t no use of startin dis shit
|
| Wit a nigga who legit, smokin bud by da pound, orange mound is my stomping
|
| ground
|
| Dats where I’m found, and all da niggas who down
|
| They gonna step when I step, jump when I jump
|
| Ima be throwin boom, dey gone be shootin pumps
|
| Havin a mothafuckin tone, really, really, really, ain’t shit to me
|
| It’s just another fuckin responsibility
|
| But weak niggas like em turn crumbs into bricks
|
| Gettin off in da click, wit sum petty ass shit
|
| MJG, will play a punk like a toy
|
| You litle 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 little millimeta boys
|
| (hook)
|
| (oh shit, I’m hit)
|
| Is there a doctor in the house? |
| (shit, I’m hit)
|
| Damn, I think I’m dyin (shit, I’m hit)
|
| Please call the doctor! |
| (shit, I’m hit) |