M-child

M-child - My Shit Be Deep lyrics

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[M-Child]



Yo, I'm gonna slow it down to you non-rapping-ass niggas who always got

something to say about a motherfucker trying to come up. 

Always putting in they motherfucking two cents and shit. 

Man, shut the fuck up, aiight? Damn..



[M-Child] [Chorus x2]



My shit be deep, so deep that you feel, what I feel,

My pen is my skill, the words I speak; that shit be real.

I'm blessed with the things I possess, but niggas test,

I'm on a quest, so I let my lyrics speak for itself.



[M-Child]



What makes a nigga wanna dis me, fuck 'em, burn in hell,

'cause dissing me and my niggas ain't gonna make your tape sell.

Local-lyric bringer; On my level, you'll never be,

Soft as a baby's ass, you talking 'bout hurting me.

I've been through it all, from piss to play to have a nice day,

Won't hesitate to run you over, splat you out like some clay.

There's always gotta be something, a mad rapper on my dick,

I ain't gon' let that shit sweat me because I'm trying to get rich.

Other things I must do, making my niggas raise the roof,

Keep with you; mind, body, and soul, be bullet-proof.

Keep a pen and some notebook paper, to make my paper,

Make my family proud, so hater, I'll catch you later.

I got my shit tight, you don't believe me, come and see,

You can learn a lot from a dummy that's from O.M.P.

My poetry be so hard, you can't take it from me,

My poetry be so real, you can't bring it like me.



[Chorus x2]



[M-Child]



My organization ain't got no fucking time to fuck off,

Like Y2K, if you play, we gon' cut your lights off.

Now wave goodbye, no freedom; chain 'em up and sit still,

I have your fucking mind-blown, like an ecstasy pill.

Affiliated with hate, slummed off drinking Nyquil.

Ain't no niggas spookin' me, check yourself if you're real,

Bottom-line, I got in this game to sit back and chill.

Time to make it subway, I wanna count some big bills.

I wanna live a good life, forever happy; doing right,

But there's always a nigga that's gon' confront you with a fight.

I ain't fucked up about it, I just never understood,

What be a nigga problem, how come it be all good?

The level-minded, just give me my ice cream and my cake,

I'll celebrate for every precious moment that I didn't waste.

Killing with faith; got me rushing motherfuckers off-guard,

Hand on my own, regardless of the shit that you start.



[Chorus]
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Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

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Language: English

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