9mm – 8Ball & MJG

Boom, oh shit, I’m hit
Is there a doctor in the house?
Shit, I’m hit
Damn, I think I’m dyin’
Shit, I’m hit
Please call the doctor
Shit, I’m hit
Boom, oh shit, I’m hit
Is there a doctor in the house?
Shit, I’m hit
Damn, I think I’m dyin’
Shit, I’m hit
Please call the doctor
Shit, I’m hit

Yeah
Tight grip on the TEC-9, now it’s time to creep
Hollow tips in the clips, puttin’ suckers in a deep sleep
Win, lose, or draw your shit, die if you ain’t quick enough
Or end up at 201, just because you think you tough
Niggas 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 him with the fanbelt
Bitches think I’m soft ’cause I treat them with respect
But I won’t hesitate to smoke a bitch 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
Niggas 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, uh
The funky M-C, uh
The nigga that’s droppin’ them bitches with my nine millimeter
One little, two little, three little tricks
Four little, five little bitches on my dick
Six little, seven little, eight little niggas
Make nine little millimeter boys

Nine little millimeter, nigga, how you figure
It’s a chance? Talkin’ shit with your gun in your pants
I’ma step on your ass like a stepbrother
Looks as if to me that you a motherfuckin’ death lover
Weak ass boy with a toy on the streets
Cappin’ on the right motherfucker ’til he meet
The wrong motherfuckin’ pimp, tight operator
Who shoot a nigga first, and then reason with him later
Now punks trip me out with a gun and no clip
Catchin’ nothin’ but a charge ’cause he wanna be hip
But you slipped anyway, when you left without your bullets
Now be a stupid fool, reach for it, then pull it
But you ain’t, ’cause you can’t pull a gun with no ammo
You thinkin’ you can beat it but you know you ain’t Rambo
So it’s best you try to beg for your life to stay alive
‘Cause tricks gettin’ they dome blown away with twenty-five (Boom)
And I’m about to pop me in a clip and get hip
You better pack your bags, ’cause you goin’ on a trip
This shit is thick as Heinz, and this shit is gettin’ thicker
For the nine little millimeter, nigga

Boom, oh shit, I’m hit
Is there a doctor in the house?
Shit, I’m hit
Damn, I think I’m dyin’
Shit, I’m hit
Please call the doctor
Shit, I’m hit
Boom, oh shit, I’m hit
Is there a doctor in the house?
Shit, I’m hit
Damn, I think I’m dyin’
Shit, I’m hit
Please call the doctor
Shit, I’m hit
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