[M-Child] [Chorus x4]
Grab the gauge, full of rage, `cause the bullshit you started,
Put your vest on, bitch, and watch; I`ll aim for your head.
[M-Child]
Get your shit together, nigga, before your body be dragged,
Leave you stanky like some panties in a fat bitch`s ass.
I`m kicking with top-notch, moving over for my class,
Something in me forever burning like Jehova harrass.
Motherfuckers on my street, we be `bout making scrilla`,
M.P.D. hop on the scene, we be vamping, my nigga.
If you ain`t from Orange Mound, acting like you a killa`,
Stick your chest out like you hard, yo, give up, they gonna miss ya.
Niggas don`t get the picture, I tell `em time after time,
Can`t stress that shit enough, not even up in my rhyme.
So I stay cool; when a pack a niggas, cock my nine,
Get stupid if you want `em, so anxious, I hear you whine.
Protect your shit; most of you niggas be faking,
Bitch, I`ll jump on you like grease and jump on you when you fry bacon.
Don`t play no games, M-Child`ll leave your shit wet,
Like a pussy that`s been fucked, Georgia, you can`t forget, yeah.
[Chorus x4]
[M-Child]
I be looking like a possum, I walk the streets at night time,
Taking back what be mine, put that shit in my rhyme.
M-C-H-I-L-D, a Memphis, Tennessee figure,
I`m a ghetto-type nigga, fuck one, pull back the trigger.
If a nigga talk shit, and it ain`t even worth it,
I`ll stick a beer in your ass and won`t think twice about it.
But if a nigga get me, this rapping shit won`t stop,
The lord`ll have me up in heaven bumping out with Tupac.
Until the fucking row blows, I`ll treat you niggas like hoes,
The only thing that you can do with rhymes; startin` wear some panty-hose.
Pockets so swole, rocking shows, I know my roll,
Mad enough to knock your ass up side the head with a phone-pole.
And if it get krilla`, gon` dynamite I toss,
I`m the motherfucking boss your punk ass, settle for loss.
When I cross your path, you won`t laugh, you`ll be scared,
I`ll crawl up in your head and talk some fusion, now you dead.
[Chorus x4]
