Mr. Fuck Up Lyrics - Mc Ren

* (NOT Cash Money -- MC Ren's brother) 

My niggaz call me Grinch and yes I'm known to be a fuck up 

Loaded clip, folded sticks, my lifts and double cuffed up 

Put my stick so nigga feel my pockets with the dollar 

'Cause they rock keep the stock in a private prison parlor 

Grinch you did it, your black ass really did it 

Give Bone the microphone and let him kill it 

Give Bone the microphone and watch me beat you like a cop 

Lil' G from the hall so the maggot won't stop 

And plus I'm packin' punches always keep a good grip 

My homies call me Bone from the Whole Damn Click 

I live like a mack and keep the bitches on my dick 

You sorry sap sips still hangin' on my shit 

Compton is the heart and that's where we all from 

The jackin' goin' on in the hood and in the slum 

And don't be caught slippin' while we dippin' the 4 

'Cause Ren'll grab his nine and watch him smoke 'em from the door 

And then we make a dash and put that ass in the air 

True checkin' done by the true fuckin' player 

I'm headed to the cut with straight chronic in my pock 

Rainin' make 'em kill 'em 'cause I'm servin' 'em spot 

And that's how it's done I keep it flowin' like a sailor 

My beats are large my feats are star, some called me Chuck Taylor 

Then I call the Juvy 'cause I know we gotta Coupe 

Don't worry 'bout a damn we got the end, we gettin' loot 

Then call me Mr. Dopeman when I'm chillin' in the spot 

My niggaz call me Bishop when I'm rollin' with my glock 

The crackers call me bandit when I'm runnin' from the cops 

And the bitches call me daddy when I'm tearin' up the cock 

Yo the title's Mr. Fuck up so I figure that I'm fucked 

Got no luck, shit, gotta go and earn a quick buck 

Boom boom, is the sound of my cannon 

'Cause I'm a nigga with a motherfuckin' gun master plannin' 

I'm a crazy ass nigga makin' motherfuckers fall 

A nigga from the streets hangin' in the fuckin' hall 

I place where we smoke bud and niggaz get bent 

And when it comes to music put on MC Ren shit 

Now everybody chillin' and the bitches gettin' freaky 

Took a trick to the room now she gots ta lick me 

Lickin' out my ass hole like a fuckin' groupie 

I'm through now I cleans up and call my nigga Juvy 

Headin' downstairs my niggaz hand me a 4-O 

Smokin' the extension you know it's the indo 

Now I'm feelin' high like I'm sittin' on a cloud 

The dust that we kick I guess we live our lives foul 

Beware of the nigga that they call J-Rock 

The party's goin' through but I still got my glock 

I'm watchin' for the bad apples in every bunch 

And if it's necessary motherfucker we can thump 

Or get a fuckin' pump, put a hole in your chest 

Slugs goin' straight through a bullet proof vest 

Matters gettin' worse if I have to drop the dogs 

Beat ya in your face yellin' till ya hit the hall 

So smalls, get your fuckin' 9 and your clip 

And let these motherfuckers know what's up on the Whole Click