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lirik lagu mc chris - ten year old

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kid: mc, can i have your autograph? mc: sure kid. i’m in a real hurry. what’s your name? kid: it’s mikey. mc: ok, mikey. mikey: mc, i hope i have a real high voice like you someday.

what’s my name? mc
and what do i do? rap.
m.d.’s screaming need 50 cc’s of mc stat.
e.r. 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 c-cked,
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 wont‘cha kick it with the mc with the voice that’s the highest.
(higher voice)i said, 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 wont‘cha kick it with the mc with the voice that’s the highest.
so come on.

mc: here ya go kid. mikey: mc, one more thing. mc: come on i gotta get onstage. mikey: i got a question. mc: what is it? mikey: how’d you get to be such a big star? mc: well, i’m a pretty good f-ckin’ rapper.

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 b-ttocks 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 att-tude.
call me gavin, i’m the captain of this carnival cruise.
kathy lee lets me rub my d-ck on her b–bs.
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 b-tt 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 f-ck out, send in number two!

repeat chorus

mikey: um, mc. i got one more question for you. mc: eh, what is it kid? i gotta get onstage. mikey: um, will you be my daddy? mc: yeah, i’ll be your daddy. get in the van.

what’s my name? mc.
and what do i do? roll.
i’m all up in that sh-t like it’s f-ckin camel toe.
olsen twins on my d-ck like it’s a stripper pole.
if you’re hooked on the sh-t, my middle name is methadone.
so, let’s do this quick so no one will ever know.
mc nice got more ice than a f-ckin’ 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 m-ff dive, you see the f-ckin 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.


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