Millie Pulled A Pistol On Santa



PAUL:
If you will suck my soul, I will lick your funky emotions

POS:
This is the stylin' for a title that sounds silly
But nothing's silly bout the trifling times of Millie
Millie, a Brooklyn Queen originally from Philly
Complete with an accent that made her sound hillbilly
Around this time the slammin' joint was 'Milk is Chillin'
But even cooler was my social worker Dylan
Yeah I had a social worker cause I had some troubles
Anyone who'd riff on me I'd pop their dome-like bubbles
He'd bring me to his crib to watch my favorite races
That's how his daughter Millie became one of my favorite faces
She had the curves that made you wanna take chances
I mean on her, man, I'd love to make advances
I guess her father musta got the same feeling
I mean actually finding his own daughter Millie appealing
At the time no one knew but it was a shame
That Millie became a victim of the touchy-touchy game

DOVE:
Yo, Millie what's the problem, lately you been bugging
On your dookie earring someone must be tugging
You were a dancer who could always be found clubbing
Now you're worried now with a frown you lugging
Come to think your face would stick when Dyl's around you
He's your father, what did happen, did he ground you?
You shouldn't flip on him cause Dylan's really cool
Matter fact the coolest elder in the school
He hooked up a trip to bring us all to Lacy's
He volunteered to play old Santa Claus at Macy's
Child, you got the best pops anyone could have
Dylan's cool, super hip, you should feel glad

POS:
Yeah, it seemed that Santa's waves were parallel with Dylan
But when Millie and him got home he was more of a villan
While she slept and he crept inside her bedroom
And he would toss and give her force to give him head room
Millie tried real hard to let this hell not happen
But when she fuss, he would just commence the slapping

"Yo Dylan man, Millie's been out of school for a week, man,
What's the deal?"

I guess he was giving Millie's bruises time to heal
Of course he told us she was sick and we believed him
And at the department store as Santa we would see him
And as he smiled, his own child was at home plottin'
How off the face of this earth she was gonna knock him
When I got home I found she had tried to call me
My machine had kicked to a hey how ya doing (s-s-sorry)
I tried to call the honey but her line was busy
I guess I head to Macy's to bug out on Dylan

DOVE:
I received a call from Mrs. Sick herself
I asked her how was she recovering her health
She said that what she had to ask
Would make it seem minute
She wanted to talk serious, I said go ahead shoot
She said I hit the combo dead upon the missle
Wanted to know if I could get a loaded pistol
That ain't a problem but why would Millie need one?
She said she wanted her pops, Dylan, to heed one
Ran some style about him pushing on her privates
Look, honey, I don't care if you kick five fits
There's no way that you can prove to me that Dyl's flip
He might be the butt, but your jeans he wouldn't rip
You're just mad, he's your overseer at school
No need to play him out like he's someone cruel
She kicked that she would go get it from somewhere else
Yeah, whatever you say, go for yourself

POS:
Macy's department store the scene for Santa's kisses
And all the little brats demanding all their wishes
Time passes by as I wait for my younger brother
He asks his wish, I waste no time to return him back to mother
As I'm jetting, Millie floats in like a zombie
I ask her what's her problem all she says is "Where is he?"
I give a point, she pulls a pistol, people screaming
She shouts that Dyl, he's off to hell cause he's a demon
None of the kids could understand what was the cause
All they could see was a girl holding a pistol on Claus
Dylan pleaded mercy, said he didn't mean to
Do all the things that her mind could do nothing but cling to
Millie bucked the man with the quickness it was over
Over... over... over











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