*girl weeping*
|
|
WHAT'S WRONG, SWEETHEART?
|
DON'T YOU WANT ME?
|
YOU PAID FOR ME. KNEEL TO ME.
|
*rhythmic sniffing*
|
SMOKE ME. BREATHE ME. INHALE ...
|
HA HA HA HA HA HA, I'M YOUR NEW GOD.
|
|
(Sir Mix-a-Lot)
|
She's only 16, she looks lost
|
Bought crack from the dopeman, and got tossed
|
Livin on the streets, smoked out
|
Perfect individual for me to bust out
|
You can sniff me, or you can puff me
|
But the girl shoulda known, you can't trust me
|
She's only 98 pounds and lonely
|
She calls to her God for help, and that's me
|
COCAINE, go ahead n' use me, heh heh
|
Momma won't know you're a junkie
|
Just put me in your pipe, light and SUCK
|
*deep inhale* Cluck cluck cluck!
|
And while you're high, grab a 12 gauge
|
Jump back on the streets, in a crack rage
|
The only way out is the sucicide route
|
Put the gauge at your dome and TAKE IT OUT
|
Now I'm on the 6 o'clock news
|
All my movies get the rave reviews
|
60 Minutes had a special on me
|
The god called Crack is killin your society
|
Colombia is where I get picked
|
I can kill with a 90-10 split
|
I work through the week, my pleasure is pain
|
And I'm your new God
|
You can call me Cocaine
|
|
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
|
Cocaine
|
Heh heh heh
|
Go ahead n' smoke me
|
|
(Sir Mix-a-Lot)
|
Brothers throwin up a set to protect me
|
I'm worth a lot so money so respect me
|
Doin damage on the boulevard, just like that
|
*gunfire* Shoot 'em over crack
|
Dope dealers would kill for me
|
Cause if ya sell me, I help ya live lovely
|
You want a Porsche? Move a few ki's
|
Just remember that your God is me
|
The task force bum rushed one of my employees
|
A big score, 23 ki's
|
Now ya see another dopeman sink
|
And one young cop on the brink
|
The cop's thinkin bout pinchin
|
And alimony checks to his wife for the rent and
|
Kids, so the profit is slow
|
And he wants to make his bankroll grow
|
23 ki's just sittin in the back seat
|
I can make the best man weak
|
So the cop hits the streets to sell a little pain
|
Now the cop has a God
|
You can call me Cocaine
|
|
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
|
Cocaine
|
Smoke this
|
Smoke it
|
Smoke it
|
|
(Sir Mix-a-Lot)
|
The only way I can be stopped is with intelligence
|
And you don't get it, so that's irrelevant
|
So you die, or else go to jail
|
And I'm happy as hell
|
I tried to get a young kid but he just said no
|
Because of some sports hero
|
So I entered the hero's house in the form of a line
|
And let him snort one time
|
Now he'd dead, cause my dose was pure
|
Got him too quick for the cure
|
So the headlines read, "Dope Made Another Hit"
|
*sniff* Dead on the first sniff
|
Now the kid is lookin for another hero
|
I let him know the other fool was a zero
|
He hits the streets, lookin for a remedy
|
They introduce him to me
|
I don't need another junky, just a flunky
|
Besides, the little punk was spunky
|
So I put him in a fresh pair o' Dickies
|
Give him a beeper, and let him terrorize the city
|
Put him in a gang, teach him to slang
|
Another young punk deep in the gang
|
He'll be lucky if he lives til' 18
|
And I'm his new God
|
You can call me Cocaine
|
|
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
|
Cocaine
|
Go ahead n' use me
|
Smoke me
|
Hm hm hm hm hm hm
|
|
-----------------
|
I'm Your New God
|
Sir Mix-A-Lot |