.45 Automatic Songtext
von The D.O.C.

Like that
Welcome to the brand new world, bitch
Put it on ′em like this
While my motherfucking homegirl in the house with me
New to the world
And it's the P-A-S-S-I-O-N

See, I be flipping like Tina Turner with the burner

Running through your hood, yelling lyrical murder
It′s dark outside and these niggas try to hide
I glide through your crew like Clyde the Glide
I ain't letting shit ride
What you wanna do when I come for you and your bitch-ass crew?
Strychnine, lose the mind on the verge of destruction


Blood starts to boil you like a lyrical combustion
Eruption, this ain't no question, no pain
Niggas falling off and strain to maintain
I got the cream dream and gunning for the riches
So many wack bitches posing for pictures
Every day, same capers, I regulate my papers
′Cause so many spectators turn to imitators

Walking my walk and mocking my persona
They wanna be like Passion, but they don′t want the drama
They be killing me, trying to preach to me, teach to me

I got the PhD in Funkthology
You got your bachelors and your masters in the field of dramatics
The lyrical one bringing the static from the attic
So cock your automatic, I had it up to here
You niggas are in danger, you better stand clear
No hugs, no love, and no kiss
Mainstream America, they just ain't ready for this

Nigga didn′t wanna pass the weed, left me stuck

Everybody be telling me that's fucked up
I never gave a fuck though, it′s all about the cash
Throw you up the river like trash
And I'm about to get a brand new one to puff
Really don′t matter 'cause now I got the batter
Not, stick it in my sock, jet

Straight to the dope spot, bet


No, just us, just me
In Atlanta when you wanna come and test me
Real to real new, what you wanna do?
'Cause what I gotta say is all parquet
Put another way, the criminal
Speak the original, more subliminal
Women′ll get wet

Can′t forget my niggas in the Lake Westside project
Underline, once upon a time in CA
I met five niggas, all they did was bomb shit
I mixed a complete elite technique
Together with the knowledge of a Compton street
But weak, nigga fucked up Motown
One by one, everybody broke down
I'm out, it′s about money, cash
But me, I'ma do a Jordan on that ass

Yeah, one time for your mind
Do a motherfucker like that
Mally G

I got my eye on that motherfucker and it come in the back
′Cause that trick bitch wanna see me on a track
And it's all good if he want it like that
′Cause I'm a niggaroe that kick a trigger flow
Screaming 6-1 to the grave, big drug sellers
Bitches and money, you can't a-motherfucking tell her
A thang about this gang
Of Illadelphiadic niggas that′ll let the gats bang

We come equipped with Glocks and clips in the pocket

And straight lock shit

And that′s the way it's gon′ be
From '95 until infinity, Mally G
I be that loony-ass nigga lamping
And I don′t give a fuck who the fuck get amped when
I scream my shit, I live my shit
Fuck living positive, I get my living negative
Motherfucker, it don't stop
And my nigga Erotic got it on deck

Motherfucker, he got the track, some weed, and the tech

I drop it on the one for my dogs who be with me, y′all
Keep it tight with a nigga, don't forget me, y'all
See, I got my niggas and we got guns
It beez like that, we always stay strapped

I represent the Philly four-pound pack
That′s quick to smack a tramp bitchy jaw jacker
Feeling like car jackers, putting my thing down

With my nigga Erotic, what you want now?
And the V-N to the O-C
With this lunatic lyricist, it′s Mally G
The unfuckwitable individual
Leaving MCs in a condition that be critical
And niggas know
That I don't give a fuck about a trick-ass ho
Never tricking my dough
And that′s the way it's gon′ be
From '95 until infinity, Mally G