Sir Mix-A-Lot

The police, urge people, to keep their guns locked up and unloaded
Congress today, seems on the verge of approving gun control
[Verse One: Sir Mix-A-Lot]
It's, time to fight back cause the new jack black macks
ain't did SHIT about that, whack, jackin
And I'm packin
Cause I'm down for the bank I'm stackin
And in a straight up brawl I'll mall alla y'all
Ya try to crawl for Tylenol and I install
big fists in your face, the blow is well placed
Spray 'em with mace in case mace is his taste
Throw up the dogs, the competition is fogged
Cause he was smokin the yang, iced and drink the 8-ball
Drunk, stumblin, threw him with the lean
I sweep him, then attack the spleen
Play the congas on his backbone
He's funk baritone until I twisted his dome
Creep up on my house and try to roll me up?
And got STUCK IN THE GUT with a black, glock
And he starts to wobble
Self-defense is what I'm claimin, let's squabble
I pick up a pipe to take plenty of quick swipes
One grazed his dome and sliced his eye whites
I don't give a DAMN bout a stupid ass burgular
It's all circular
The dope dealer sells dope to the dope smoker
The smoker breaks in and tries to choke ya
But I ain't the one to run from ya son
This is MY HOUSE, and it's FULLA GUNS!
I'm down for mine and my choke is nice and hard
When you jack the boss there ain't no holds barred!
No holds barred
No holds barred
No holds barred
[Verse Two: Sir Mix-A-Lot]
I'm crushin most hoods like Katie-dids(?)
I'm pleadin guilty for the damage I did
This ain't about random violence
The (?) crept into my house, FUCK SILENCE
Now most punks wanna run for the stun gun
Fuck a stun gun, I got the big one
Forty-four mag, automatic, CHROME
Mercury-tipped bullets, melt the dome
It's the 1990's, and crack is
talkin to the criminals, ever so subliminal
Some crackhead wants Mix-A-Lot dead
A jack move instead, another fool bled
I can't cry cause my tears are nearly froze
My interior's cold, it posess my soul
I'm on the paranoid tip
And each of my socks got a clip!