[M-Child] [Chorus x2]

Pushing rocks on the block, I'm never broke, man.
Try to saw me, you get served.. With no regard.
Boy, don't test me 'cause I'm tired of teaching
lessons.
Boy, don't test me 'cause I'm tired of teaching
lessons.

[M-Child]

We be deep, like roaches on the counter in the
projects,
We all be slummed out, yeah, Generation-X.
To you junkies who finger fuck with your boy, I
got that shit,
Heat it up and cook that shit, stir it up like
Nestle Quick.
My pager be on, making deals on the cell phone,
If you call me at home, I think you're trying to
do me wrong.
You know the game, I be a fucking disease,
Junking be rucking, looking at this guy saying
they ABCs.
I got a straw, they sticking needles in they
tongue,
Smoking out of weed bongs, some old, some young,
But who gives a fuck, my nigga all talking
dollars,
Throw at school with my nigga Teddy and I stole an
Impala.
Close shop, 5-0, got a young nigga; Noid,
All the dopies in the stash by Kamikaze boys.
Be on top of that shit, being broke, I can't
afford,
Niggas who slip-steal bungie jump with no cord,
hah.

[Chorus x2]

[???]

Standing on the corner and I'm gonna serve these
kids it on,
Junkies gonna stop and and kindly stop, asking me
for more.
Come and pull some credit; I can't let it go out
just like that,
I'm gonna fucking finger nigga' pimp' hoe until my
finger get fat.
That ain't the motherfucking wait, fucking junkies
like to pay,
Get my money, thing be the frontin',
plus they down with the A to the K.
Everyday, coming up to me talking about, \"I got
five.\"
Seeing devils in they room and assume they can
fly.
Found your ass on top of the roof, nigga, I want
you down here first.
As you on the ground, dancing around screaming,
\"Yeah, that hurts.\"
Roll on over boy, you want another one of these
monkey nuts?
I'm sorry, but.. A hole in a soda what you junky
gots.
Dragging me around, giving head, see, I don't want
it.
Now a nigga on the crazy, got that late night, I'm
on it.
Trying to scratch some give and gets,
MC Mack ain't becoming your friend,
Go to the Southside; Scan Man, the boy,
and M-Child, getting his ass hit.

[Chorus x2]

[M-Child]

I say they call me M-Child, fresh out the O.M.P.
I never let a junky slide, sell 'em P.A.C.
And cliqued up with all my niggas from the O.M.P.
If you think I'm lying, ask another my nigga,
that's if you don't believe me.
We young niggas, we keep it crazy; the last days,
Rapping and trying to get paid, fuck being a
slave.
Duck and dodging my grave 'cause I'm not ready to
leave,
I stay for perm, got a lot of naughty tricks on my
sleave.
My nigga, let me procede.. They'll discipline what
you need.
Take 'em down, do with me and break 'em down like
weed.
I don't give a fuck; M-Child, I'm worthy,
On the track, booming llell, go to sleep, wake up
early.
Niggas thought I won't going to make it in this
R.A.P.
G.A.M.E., I mastered this shit perfectly.
By any means, I'm making green-child with it, yo.
Like a bitch I won't go, so tell that shit to your
hoe, yeah.

[Chorus x5]