Da Da DaHHH - Intellectual

[Verse 1]

Yo, I got a back ache, stomach ache, diarrhea, vomiting

Cold feet, runny nose, head ache, insomnia

Cranky, moody, burpin' while I'm cursin'

Baby chair tied in a Suburban, drinkin' bourbon

I'm only 3, and gotta chip Motorola

A hoochie babysitter with snitches on the stroller

Lyin', cryin', whinin', teethin'

Suckin' titties like I had years of breast feedin'

In the beginning I was sinning

Kept my mama back and forth to the hospital for the constant kickin'

Kept a ass whippin', I get in the mall

Show off like "I'm for dolo, so fuck all y'all"

Then you get your ass whooped, wish your moms bad luck

Like "I hope, you, get, hit, by a truck"

Playin' catch a girl, fuck a girl, put 'em in a sandwich

Just a young boy doing grown man shit

[Hook]

I'm just a young boy doing grown man shit

Like kickin' your ass

I'm just a young boy doing grown man shit

Smokin' weed

I'm just a young boy doing grown man shit

All day check it out

[Verse 2]

I'm only 13 puttin' in work, rockin' Chinese shoes

With High Top Converse, but first

We was all gassed watchin' 'Game of Death' with Bruce

Walkin' home from the movies (wattaha, wattaha, wattaha)

I thought about the sex often

I even kept a hard one for them white girls on 'Magic Garden'

Light skin, chubby and shit

Ran my mama's phone bill up for callin' "Biggs Biggs Biggs"

The old heads used to make them little niggas fight

The Lee patch was the shit if you stitch it right

And everybody knew the pattern to Pac-Man

Grams was 15 and that then was happenin'

Niggas used to get robbed at Twin City

I was cuttin' on SL's glue with a penny

When EPMD dropped "It's My Thing"

I said, "Damn, I gotta get up in this rap game"

[Hook]

I'm just a young boy doing grown man shit

Like touchin' your titties

I'm just a young boy doing grown man shit

Like stealin' my mama's car

[Verse 3]

I used to tell my little sis, "I'm gonna make it, bitch!"

So close to gettin' on that I could taste the shit

In a hot ass room, cuttin' "Smooth Operator"

In my last year at West Side High, I barely made it

Flipping eightballs, going to Montclair State

I passed one class and still owe their ass cake

For quick cash, Doc hit up 13th Ave

Sell white boys oregano, dash, then we laugh

That was the days, now the times switched up

Son either walk them dogs snuffing or get snuffed

Them ho's got triflin' but much thicker

My weed got better so easily I fuck shit up

I test y'all with my Def Squad camp

And I don't stage show dive unless y'all amped

To all my fans, yo, "Arrivederci to ya!"

And any ho that didn't blow Doc, "I never knew ya!"