Yo Keith man

I just turned off the TV man

Kids out there be thinkin they hardcore man

We gotta do somethin man yo

Do it



{Little girls.. think they're hardcore..} (4X)



[Kool Keith]

You got nine cars tons of champagne by the cases

Two thousand people killed fake murder cases

Videos exaggerate things you never make

Your style is all tissue chocolate fudge cream cake

The companies back you people out there want to slap you

Original fraud, funny with a mic cord

Persuadin kids that you hard, every stage you tour

Cold scared you in a motel, you can't come out

After the show, with panties on, you hurry run out

You petrified hallucinatin thinkin hardcore

You got the style now, you have to roll with 50 people

Lookin hard and mean, you ain't pullin triggers

Did you pay your bodyguards, for actin hard?

You get pistol-whipped, booty tapped, face scarred

Down and out, with camouflage gear, and no war

You ain't in the army kid..



{Little girls.. think they're hardcore..} (3X)



[Kool Keith]

Now your show's packed up, you're gassed up

I'm there you're scared

You just turned twat, looked away feelin weird

You on the walkie talkie standin close near the door

Thinkin bout your records how you pop doo-doo more

Posses wait in Texas, Detroit for the bumrush

You bringin rubber, your crew is nervous smokin dust

You perpetrate your front, show your teeth, smokin blunts

Rappers cancel shows, ran away with stunts

Your manager scared, with ghetto mugs starin at him

Your crew pressured more, to even act harder

You took New York, down South them folks, wasn't havin that

Three kids from D.C. pulled out, what you laughin at?

You ran out, funny style, girl style, panty style

Freestyle the same style last week

you was bitin off that kid Bo Peep

With no panties on, your rectum got torn

Rearranged, I caught you after the show

Naked out, butt out, cracked out, with two rolls of film

Tryin to sell pictures of your lover

with you, molestin your little brother

I smacked you and stole your pistols



{Little girls.. think they're hardcore..} (4X)



[Kool Keith]

Tommy, didn't I raise you to go to Catholic school?

But mom, I gotta keep this up, this is all a front

This is just gimmicks to sell my records

The people don't have to know

I mean really, that's just me, even though we're soft

Me and my friends all of us

We just make money, that's all, it's a gimmick

Writer : KURT MATLIN, KEITH THORNTON
Copyright : Lyrics © The Bicycle Music Company, KOHAW MUSIC OBO NOTTING DALE SONGS INC