9 Little Milimeta Boys lyrics

[Verse 1: 8Ball]
Tight grip on the TEC-9, now it's time to creep
Hollow tips in the clip, puttin' suckas in a deep sleep
Win, lose, or draw your gat, die if you ain't quick enough
Or end up at 201 just because you think you tough
n*ggas in the med, now they dead, from the Uzi round
Trick was found, bloody on the ground, down in orange mound
Hole in his dome, from the chrome that my hand held
Cuts on the ho, where I whooped 'em with the fanbelt
b*tches think I'm soft 'cause I treat them with respect
But I won't hesitate to smoke a b*tch with my TEC
Nine-millimeter beater if I feel that I should hit that ho
Smack, step back, then watch that ho hit the floor
n*ggas on the gank might do better at a bank
'Cause I'm packin' what you lackin' and I'm shootin' like a tank
It's the P-I-M-P, yeah, the funky MC, yeah
The n*ggas that's droppin' them b*tches with my nine-millimeter
One little, two little, three little tricks
Four little, five little b*tches on my di*k
Six little, seven little, eight little n*ggas make
Nine little millimeter boys (Boys)

[MJG]
9 little millimeter n*gga, how you figure?
It's a chance, talkin' sh*t, wit' ya gun in ya pants
I'm a step on your ass like a stepbrother
Looks as if to me that you a motherf*ckin' death lover
Weak ass boy, wit' a toy on da street
Cappin' on the right motherf*cker 'til he meet
The wrong motherf*ckin' pimp tight, operator
Who shoot a n*gga first, and then reason wit' 'em later
Now punks, trip me out, wit' a gun and no clip
Catchin' nothin' but a charge 'cause he wanna be hip—, but ya slipped
Anyway, when ya left without ya bullets
Now be a stupid fool, reach for it then pull it
But you ain't, 'cause you can't, pull a gun wit' no ammo
You thinken' you can beat it but you know you ain't rambo
So it's best you try to beg for yo' life to stay alive
'Cause tricks, gettin' they dome blown away wit' 25
And all about da poppin' me a clip in get hip
You betta pack yo' bags, 'cause you goin on a trip
This sh*t is thick as heinz, and da sh*t is gettin' thicker. .
For da 9 little millimeter n*gga
[Hook]
(Oh sh*t, I'm hit)
Is there a doctor in the house? (sh*t, I'm hit)
Damn, I think I'm dyin' (sh*t, I'm hit)
Please call the doctor! (sh*t, I'm hit)

[8ball]
The motherf*ckin' pigs wanna f*ck up da game
Sending n*ggas to jail, because they sell cocaine
Rocks of crack, make stacks of dead presidents
Junkies fiendin' for a hit, f*cks up my residence
5-o, creepin' tryna catch a n*gga serve one
Thats, when I got my motherf*ckin' shotgun
n*ggas in da bushes tryna rob me for what I got
Watch them b*tches scatter when I unload, da buckshots
Jack—, or be jacked, creep—, or get creeped on
But n*gga don't step wrong, 'cause 8ball keep a tone
And if ya shoot at me I hope ya' hit me and kill me dead
'Cause if I dont die, I’m puttin a hole in yo' f*ckin head
Scandalous hoes, love a n*gga that's beldum
Play dat innocent role, and have a n*gga f*cked up
She'll suck ya di*k and then ya fall in love
While ya at home sleepin, she sellin' pus*y at da club
But look here hoes, I won't go out like a punk b*tch
It takes more to get me, den f*ckin' and suckin' di*k
Dont disrespect me, 'cause ho I'm the truth
9 little millimeter n*ggas smoke b*tches too
[Hook]
(Oh sh*t, I'm hit)
Is there a doctor in the house? (sh*t, I'm hit)
Damn, I think I'm dyin' (sh*t, I'm hit)
Please call the doctor! (sh*t, I'm hit)

[MJG]
I tote a motherf*ckin' tone, when I gotta roam, 'cause pimps dont play
And I gotta stay, where young black n*ggas obey
Some kinda rule or strategy, 'cause I can't be havin' the
sh*t from no n*gga who think his tone is backin' me
Away from da sh*t he talk, da sh*t ain't worth bein heard
I’m thinkin' 'bout cappin' domes, you ain't shootin' sh*t but birds
For n*ggas who totin' shanks, I hope you young n*ggas think
To creep from a pimps backside before you take his bank
'Cause I ain't no motherf*ckin' target, ain't no use of startin' this sh*t
Wit' a n*gga who legit, smokin' bud by da pound, orange mound is my stomping ground
Dats where I'm found, and all da n*ggas who down
They gonna step when I step, jump when I jump
I'ma be throwin' boom, they gone be shootin' pumps
Havin' a motherf*ckin' tone, really, really, really, ain't sh*t to me
It’s just another f*ckin' responsibility
But weak n*ggas like 'em turn crumbs into bricks
Gettin' off in da click, wit' sum petty ass sh*t
MJG, will play a punk like a toy
You little 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 little millimeter boys
[Hook]
(Oh sh*t, I'm hit)
Is there a doctor in the house? (sh*t, I'm hit)
Damn, I think I'm dyin' (sh*t, I'm hit)
Please call the doctor! (sh*t, I'm hit)