I'm Your New God Lyrics - Mack Daddy - Sir Mixalot

*girl weeping* 

WHAT'S WRONG, SWEETHEART? 

DON'T YOU WANT ME? 

YOU PAID FOR ME. KNEEL TO ME. 

*rhythmic sniffing* 

SMOKE ME. BREATHE ME. INHALE ... 

HA HA HA HA HA HA, I'M YOUR NEW GOD. 

(Sir Mix-a-Lot) 

She's only 16, she looks lost 

Bought crack from the dopeman, and got tossed 

Livin on the streets, smoked out 

Perfect individual for me to bust out 

You can sniff me, or you can puff me 

But the girl shoulda known, you can't trust me 

She's only 98 pounds and lonely 

She calls to her God for help, and that's me 

COCAINE, go ahead n' use me, heh heh 

Momma won't know you're a junkie 

Just put me in your pipe, light and SUCK 

*deep inhale* Cluck cluck cluck! 

And while you're high, grab a 12 gauge 

Jump back on the streets, in a crack rage 

The only way out is the sucicide route 

Put the gauge at your dome and TAKE IT OUT 

Now I'm on the 6 o'clock news 

All my movies get the rave reviews 

60 Minutes had a special on me 

The god called Crack is killin your society 

Colombia is where I get picked 

I can kill with a 90-10 split 

I work through the week, my pleasure is pain 

And I'm your new God 

You can call me Cocaine 

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 

Cocaine 

Heh heh heh 

Go ahead n' smoke me 

(Sir Mix-a-Lot) 

Brothers throwin up a set to protect me 

I'm worth a lot so money so respect me 

Doin damage on the boulevard, just like that 

*gunfire* Shoot 'em over crack 

Dope dealers would kill for me 

Cause if ya sell me, I help ya live lovely 

You want a Porsche? Move a few ki's 

Just remember that your God is me 

The task force bum rushed one of my employees 

A big score, 23 ki's 

Now ya see another dopeman sink 

And one young cop on the brink 

The cop's thinkin bout pinchin 

And alimony checks to his wife for the rent and 

Kids, so the profit is slow 

And he wants to make his bankroll grow 

23 ki's just sittin in the back seat 

I can make the best man weak 

So the cop hits the streets to sell a little pain 

Now the cop has a God 

You can call me Cocaine 

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 

Cocaine 

Smoke this 

Smoke it 

Smoke it 

(Sir Mix-a-Lot) 

The only way I can be stopped is with intelligence 

And you don't get it, so that's irrelevant 

So you die, or else go to jail 

And I'm happy as hell 

I tried to get a young kid but he just said no 

Because of some sports hero 

So I entered the hero's house in the form of a line 

And let him snort one time 

Now he'd dead, cause my dose was pure 

Got him too quick for the cure 

So the headlines read, "Dope Made Another Hit" 

*sniff* Dead on the first sniff 

Now the kid is lookin for another hero 

I let him know the other fool was a zero 

He hits the streets, lookin for a remedy 

They introduce him to me 

I don't need another junky, just a flunky 

Besides, the little punk was spunky 

So I put him in a fresh pair o' Dickies 

Give him a beeper, and let him terrorize the city 

Put him in a gang, teach him to slang 

Another young punk deep in the game 

He'll be lucky if he lives til' 18 

And I'm his new God 

You can call me Cocaine 

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 

Cocaine 

Go ahead n' use me 

Smoke me 

Hm hm hm hm hm hm