if you don´t back off, i´m killing myself. (x4)

[m-child]

i think you pushed the wrong button, bitch.
i self destruct, fuck the world, nigga talkin´ shit.
they call me the shit starter of the fucking clique.
i represent o.m., orange mound, bitch.
a bunch of hard-core motherfucking lyricists.
provided bags, bandana rags, and shoot quick.
and ride steamer, gettin´ blown for the fuck of it.
i´m lovin´ it, tell a hater straight, "suck my dick."
and giggle in your fucking face, ´cause you lame, mane.
and ride through your fucking hood and do the same thing.
i test nuts when i´m high off that green and gin,
and got some gold brass knuckles that´ll bruise a chin.
they call me the m-child, psycho fucking kid.
i´m splittin´ weaves tryin´ to get a motherfucking gig.
the shit i did or will do to a nigga,
really gon´ leave ´em scared,
standin´ in a puddle of piss runnin´ down his leg.

[m-child] [chorus x2]

(if you don´t back off, i´m killing myself. [x4])
i ain´t no bitch, i ain´t no hoe,
i ain´t no bitch, i ain´t no hoe,
player hater you gotta go,
player hater you gotta go,
i´m all about makin scrilla´ and cookin´ that green dough.

[m-child]

i´m about stackin´ grip,
i go to church ´cause i´m holy.
people ask me what the m. stands for, because they nosey.
i keep a lot of shit to myself, keep niggas thinking,
what will he do next, when he high and when he drinking?
don´t fuck around nigga, don´t fuck around with me,
i snap, crackle, and pop, like fucking rice crispies.
you think it´s a game, a motherfucking talk show?
niggas laughin´ like they ate a fucking tickle-me-elmo.
get that grin up off you face,
get up out your paper chase,
make a bitch bounce that ass,
make her buy you birthday cake.
it´s a new millenium, 2000, i´m on the rise,
better catch up, but not the kind you put on french fries.
i can make a nigga hot, make ´em catch a bloody nose.
when i hit the studio, rip tracks like panty hose.
bring pain, cause my game is like the finger fold,
lock down, twist ´em up, andr efuse to let ´em go.

[chorus x2]

[m-child]

you better hang on my nig´, i´m gone, i´m in a zone.
microphone be on, better leave me alone.
straight hard-core shit, i´m bringin´ it to your home,
and to your tape cassette, cds, or headphones.
eliminations for sure, we be comin´ in a pack,
ready to attack, open up your back with a gat.
lock down, close shop, fill up every crack.
i ain´t givin´ a nigga shit, not even a scooby snack.
yo´ hater you comin´ back, why you tryin´ to take mine,
i´ma turn into mcgruff and take a bite out of crime.
fuck ´em all, ´bout one phone call, it can be done.
take ´em out, ´cause of low self-esteem, you on the run.
never fucking with your kind, ´cause your kind pullin´ stunts,
i´ma beat your ass like you ate my captain crunch.
drag ´em through the mud,
shoot your ass like a punk,
you only came too deep,
we bigger then brady bunch, nigga.