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Little girls
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Current song lyrics
Yo Keith man<br />I just turned off the TV man<br />Kids out there be thinkin they hardcore man<br />We gotta do somethin man, yo<br />Do it<br /><br />{Little girls.. think they're hardcore..} (4X)<br /><br />[Kool Keith]<br />You got nine cars, tons of champagne, by the cases<br />Two thousand people killed, fake murder cases<br />Videos exaggerate things you never make<br />Your style is all tissue, chocolate fudge cream cake<br />The companies back you, people out there wanna slap you<br />Original fraud, funny with a mic cord<br />Persuadin kids that you hard, every stage you tour<br />Cold scared you in a motel, you can't come out<br />After the show, with panties on, you hurry run out<br />You petrified hallucinatin thinkin hardcore<br />You got the style now, you have to roll with 50 people<br />Lookin hard and mean, you ain't pullin triggers<br />Did you pay your bodyguards, for actin hard?<br />You get pistol-whipped, booty tapped, face scarred<br />Down and out, with camouflage gear, and no war<br />You ain't in the army kid..<br /><br />{Little girls.. think they're hardcore..} (3X)<br /><br />[Kool Keith]<br />Now your show's packed up, you're gassed up<br />I'm there you're scared<br />You just turned twat, looked away feelin weird<br />You on the walkie talkie standin close near the door<br />Thinkin bout your records how you pop doo-doo more<br />Posses wait in Texas, Detroit for the bumrush<br />You bringin rubber, your crew is nervous smokin dust<br />You perpetrate your front, show your teeth, smokin blunts<br />Rappers cancel shows, ran away with stunts<br />Your manager scared, with ghetto mugs starin at him<br />Your crew pressured more, to even act harder<br />You took New York, down South them folks, wasn't havin that<br />Three kids from D.C. pulled out, what you laughin at?<br />You ran out, funny style, girl style, panty style<br />Freestyle the same style last week<br />you was bitin off that kid Bo Peep<br />With no panties on, your rectum got torn<br />Rearranged, I caught you after the show<br />Naked out, butt out, cracked out, with two rolls of film<br />Tryin to sell pictures of your lover<br />with you, molestin your little brother<br />I smacked you and stole your pistols<br /><br />{Little girls.. think they're hardcore..} (4X)<br /><br />[Kool Keith]<br />Tommy, didn't I raise you to go to Catholic school?<br />But mom, I gotta keep this up, this is all a front<br />This is just gimmicks to sell my records<br />The people don't have to know<br />I mean really, that's just me, even though we're soft<br />Me and my friends all of us<br />We just make money, that's all, it's a gimmick
New song lyrics
Yo Keith man<br />I just turned off the TV man<br />Kids out there be thinkin they hardcore man<br />We gotta do somethin man, yo<br />Do it<br /><br />{Little girls.. think they're hardcore..} (4X)<br /><br />[Kool Keith]<br />You got nine cars, tons of champagne, by the cases<br />Two thousand people killed, fake murder cases<br />Videos exaggerate things you never make<br />Your style is all tissue, chocolate fudge cream cake<br />The companies back you, people out there wanna slap you<br />Original fraud, funny with a mic cord<br />Persuadin kids that you hard, every stage you tour<br />Cold scared you in a motel, you can't come out<br />After the show, with panties on, you hurry run out<br />You petrified hallucinatin thinkin hardcore<br />You got the style now, you have to roll with 50 people<br />Lookin hard and mean, you ain't pullin triggers<br />Did you pay your bodyguards, for actin hard?<br />You get pistol-whipped, booty tapped, face scarred<br />Down and out, with camouflage gear, and no war<br />You ain't in the army kid..<br /><br />{Little girls.. think they're hardcore..} (3X)<br /><br />[Kool Keith]<br />Now your show's packed up, you're gassed up<br />I'm there you're scared<br />You just turned twat, looked away feelin weird<br />You on the walkie talkie standin close near the door<br />Thinkin bout your records how you pop doo-doo more<br />Posses wait in Texas, Detroit for the bumrush<br />You bringin rubber, your crew is nervous smokin dust<br />You perpetrate your front, show your teeth, smokin blunts<br />Rappers cancel shows, ran away with stunts<br />Your manager scared, with ghetto mugs starin at him<br />Your crew pressured more, to even act harder<br />You took New York, down South them folks, wasn't havin that<br />Three kids from D.C. pulled out, what you laughin at?<br />You ran out, funny style, girl style, panty style<br />Freestyle the same style last week<br />you was bitin off that kid Bo Peep<br />With no panties on, your rectum got torn<br />Rearranged, I caught you after the show<br />Naked out, butt out, cracked out, with two rolls of film<br />Tryin to sell pictures of your lover<br />with you, molestin your little brother<br />I smacked you and stole your pistols<br /><br />{Little girls.. think they're hardcore..} (4X)<br /><br />[Kool Keith]<br />Tommy, didn't I raise you to go to Catholic school?<br />But mom, I gotta keep this up, this is all a front<br />This is just gimmicks to sell my records<br />The people don't have to know<br />I mean really, that's just me, even though we're soft<br />Me and my friends all of us<br />We just make money, that's all, it's a gimmick
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