MC Chris - Ten Year Old lyrics

what's my name? mc. and what do I do? rap. md's screaming need 50 cc's of mc stat.

er staff be freakin' like mariah on the rag. mc chris squeezin' contents out of tiny

plastic bags. it's like hypnotizin' eyes and gettin' digits on the pad. legs seperate

like hyphens because mc's still the mack. identify the items by the bar code on the

tag. identify the rapper cuz he's knee deep in the vag. I got my glocks cocked, I got

my nine's primed, I got my crosshairs locked on kelly lebrock's behind, I got my lungs

locked on chemotherapy kind, I got more rhyme than shel silverstein and shakespeare

combined.

chorus – I sound like a ten year old or so I've been told, but you don't need a voice

that's low to make the microphone gold. other's claim that they be midas but they got

laryngitis, so whyn‘cha kick it with the mc with the voice that's the highest. so come on.

what's my name? mc. and what do I do? rock. I'm intimidating jocks and inseminating socks,

I'm infiltrating flocks of fembots, high off that hemlock, mud wrestling bittie buttocks

like ox. let's knock chucks cuz we can't afford boots. let's get high aka pull tubes.

don't ask why, just let it all loose, watch this mike get abused, watch me change your

attitude. call me gavin, I'm the captain of this carnival cruise. kathie lee lets me rub

my dick on her boobs. seems tweens in cleavage jeans is many a man's muse, all mc needs

is just a bucket of booze. watch me, blow a load on your butt tattoo, watch me, come back

for seconds like it's chinese food. no one can hear you scream, cuz it's a soundproof

room. I'm done, get the fuck out, send in number two!

repeat chorus

what's my name? mc. and what do I do? roll. I'm all up in that shit like it's fuckin camel

toe. olsen twins on my dick like it's a stripper pole. if you're hooked on the shit, my

middle name is methadone. so, let's do this quick so no one will ever know. mc nice got

more ice than a fuckin' eskimo. he's not whack nickleback singing songs for michelobe.

jigga man, why you treat me like animal? at the mall, at the park, rollerink, backyard,

soft hearted bard who makes the hardcore hard. I weigh a buck fiddy, stand 5.5, and when

I muff dive, you see the fuckin fur fly. don't own a celly, my sneakers is my ride, been

disgraced, demoted, I been denied. all my fan mail says someday that I'll get signed.

mc chris, lower case, no dots, rewind.

repeat chorus