[Verse 1: 8Ball]
Tight grip on the TEC-9, now it's time to creep
Hollow tips in the clip, puttin' suckas in a deep sleep
Win, lose, or draw your gat, die if you ain't quick enough
Or end up at 201 just because you think you tough
N***as 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 'em 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
N***as 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, yeah, the funky MC, yeah
The n***as 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 n***as make
Nine little millimeter boys (Boys)

(MJG)
9 little millimeta n***a, how you figure
Its a chance, talkin shit, wit ya gun in ya pants
I'm'a step on your ass like a stepbrother
Looks as if to me dat you a mothafuckin death lover
Weak ass boy, wit a toy on da street
Cappin on the right mothafucka til he meet
The wrong mothafuckin pimp tight, operator
Who shoot a n***a first, and then reason wit em later
Now punks, trip me out, wit a gun and no clip
Catchin nothin but a charge cuz he wanna be hip- but ya slipped
Anyway, when ya left witout ya bullets
Now be a stupid fool, reach for it then pull it
But you ain't, cuz u can't, pull a gun wit no ammo
You thinkn you can beat it but you know you ain't rambo
So its best you try to beg for ya life to stay alive
Cuz tricks, gettin dey dome blown away wit 25
And all about da popppin me a clip in get hip
You betta pack yo bags, cuz you goin on a trip
Dis shit is thick as heinz, and da shit is gettin thicker. . .for da 9 little millimeta n***a
(hook)
(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)

(8ball)
The mothafuckin pigs wanna fuck up da game
Sending n***as to jail, because dey sell cocaine
Rocks of crack, make stacks of dead presidents
Junkies fiendin for a hit, fucks up my residence
5-o, creepin tryna catch a n***a serve one
Thats, when I got my mothafuckin shotgun
N***as in da bushes tryna rob me for what I got
Watch dem bitches scatter when I unload, da buckshots
Jack- or be jacked, creep- or get creeped on
But n***a don't step wrong, cuz 8ball keep a tone
And if ya shoot at me I hope ya hit me and kill me dead
Cuz if I dont die, I’m puttin a hole in yo fuckin head
Scandalous hoes, love a n***a dats beldum
Play dat innocent role, and have a n***a fucked up
She'll suck ya dick and then ya fall in love
While ya at home sleepin, she sellin pussy at da club
But look here hoes, I won't go out like a punk bitch
It takes more to get me, den fuckin and suckin dick
Dont disrespect me, cuz ho I’m the truth
9 little millimeta n***as smoke bitches too
(hook)
(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)

(MJG)
I tote a mothafuckin tone, when I gotta roam, cuz pimps dont play
And I gotta stay, where young black n***as obey
Some kinda rule or strategy, cuz I can't be havin the
Shit from no n***a who think his tone is backin me
Away from da shit he talk, da shit ain't worth bein heard
I’m thinkin bout cappin domes, you ain't shootin shit but birds
For nigas who totin shanks, I hope you young n***as think
To creep from a pimps backside before you take his bank
Cuz I ain't no mothafuckin target, ain't no use of startin dis shit
Wit a n***a who legit, smokin bud by da pound, orange mound is my stomping ground
Dats where I’m found, and all da n***as who down
They gonna step when I step, jump when I jump
Ima be throwin boom, dey gone be shootin pumps
Havin a mothafuckin tone, really, really, really, ain't shit to me
It’s just another fuckin responsibility
But weak n***as like em turn crumbs into bricks
Gettin off in da click, wit sum petty ass shit
MJG, will play a punk like a toy
You litle 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 little millimeta boys
(hook)
(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)