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Ten Year Old Lyrics

Ten Year Old by Mc Chris  

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Ten Year Old 10 year old
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 separate
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 Kelly lebrock’s behind,
I got my lungs locked on chemotherapy kind,
I got more rhyme
Than 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 sound proof 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 fucking 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 fucking Eskimo.
He’s not whack nickleback singing songs for Michelob.
Jigga man, why you treat me like animal?
At the mall, at the park, roller rink, backyard,
Soft hearted bard who makes the hardcore hard.
I weigh a buck fiddy, stand 5on5, 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.



CD  ·  DVD  ·  Sheet music
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