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E-40
E-40


Background information
Birth name Earl Stevens
Born November 15, 1967
Born place Vallejo, California, United States
Origin San Francisco Bay Area, California, United States
Genre(s) Hip-hop
Years active 1987—present
Label(s) Jive Records
Heavy on the Grind Ent.
Associated acts Too $hort
Suga T
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  E  →  E-40  →  Albums  →  Grit & Grind

E-40 Album


Grit & Grind (07/09/2002)
07/09/2002
1.
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6.
7.
Mustard & Mayonnaise (Intro)
8.
9.
10.
Whomp Whomp
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18.
Roll On
. . .



(Intro)
Y'all ready for this
ARE YOU READY!!!!!!
Ho, uh, uh

(Chorus - 2x)
Why they don't fuck with us
Don't fuck with us, don't fuck with us
Don't fuck with us

[E-40]
I use colorful rhymes, you probably heard
From somebody else's lit, but really it's my spit
I came from the streets, I'm not from the 'burbs
Although I stay in the burbs, I come from the streets
Money hungry hustlers trying to make ends meet
Stingy young brothers when we walk we squeak
Have street, have money, have heart
I ain't trying to but I'm trying to go off the park
I'm on deck, Sick Wid It Records I rep
I'm a vet, but I spit like a youngster from the set
I ain't tripping, I knew it was political
They left us out the top for us, me and Mystikal
I rap fast but you could quote my rhymes
The greatest game spitter of all times
The most underrated rapper in the game
But everybody wanna use my slang

(Chorus - 4x)

[E-40]
I don't know what they was thinking
When they thought what they was thinking
But they shit enough to fuck it
I've been a hustler since birth
So when they haul me off and
Put me up in that hearse remember this verse
I did a song with Fred Durst, as far as the independent
Underground rap scene, I was the first
To get a big deal, couple mill, and some mo'
See times have changed ever since then back in '94
Playa been eating off that bill, for a while
I always did me I never changed my style
I gave it to you raw and uncut
75 percent of the words, I made it up
You ask me why I speak the real the way I feel
How come E-40 so groupie and y'all so game goofy
Started to the back that I'm a force
They never put me on the cover of The Source

(Chorus - 4x)

[E-40]
Next tape, they can't trace the calls
I change numbers, like a playa changes draws
I'm having money, money long stretch like a ?burshie?
When he use to come around ask the easter bunny
(Tell me do you know E-40)
Bet you the players say that's the homie
You liable to find me on the AVE. on the main drag
Or on the corner sipping yac up out a brown paper bag
I don't need no iron on my ready crease
Enough game to sell sand to a beach
Enough game to sell a hooker to a priest
Enough game to sell rookie rocket Scottie to a street
I rap fast but you could quote my rhymes
The greatest game spitter of all times
The most underrated rapper in the game
But everybody wanna use my slang

(Chorus - 4x)

(*ad-libs*)

. . .



[E-40]
Ooooh, I'm every scene but gossip, my weeblization be thug
My music be all in the club and my fo' 15's be sub
And my drums and my brake pads on my car be rubber
My oldest, and my youngest son always nuggin
Bumpin, me and my catholic savage, badness
Dumpin, on phony-ass fake-ass plastic, faggots
Grindin, dippin and divin on fine, pressure
Rhymin, in the +Lab+ like +Dexter+
Packin Winchester, and a trey Sylvester
Catch a, bitch-a, out there oughta wet'cha
Kinda sorta liquored, liquor kinda sore, measure, grams
Digital scale, green eggs & hams
Yams, candy yams, spam, DAMN!
Loaded, my cheese, peanut butter & jam
Sam'mich, mannish, me and my hispanics
Vanish, talkin in codes like we from different planets

[Chorus]
Ay, what y'all players grindin to? What y'all bumpin mayn?
(The slap!) What they lackin in the trackin?
What all my fly takers be listenin to?
(The slap!) What about my {?} players and West coast cats?
What they listenin to?
(The slap!) And I know my down South, midwest and East coast folks
is fuckin with (the slap!)

[E-40]
I've got white girl for sale!
And I don't mean caucausian, I'm talkin about yale
2-way goin off, like a high school {?}
A hundred bucks it cost me for my faulty chip sale
Around the corner from Starbucks coffee talkin to my {?}
My frontin lil' broad up out of Tacoma askin for some mail
Like I'm some type of trick deally musty mouth BOOTCH
Get smacked silly, get smacked silly
Musty mouth BOOTCH, get smacked silly
Puffin on a Phizznilly blunt, I'm really real
Herbal kill deal chill pill scrill deal (deal)
Feel 'til Phil heal skill (skill)
Grindin, grittin & grindin, lurkin, seekin and searchin
Skirtin, tellin that durban work it (work it)
Caitlin Candy's drinkin and gurpin, E&J brand burpin, {?}
Chickens and birdies pickin a chef to serve it
Servin, to die for, top, bleedin the block for ravi
Milkin the block for fetti like a pregnant bitch's titties

[Chorus]

[E-40]
Ooooh, ooooh
Talk my way out of anything, got my hands off in everything
If my money ever got funny, I'd pawn my Walter Potter engagement ring
If I was to pass away tomorrow, with a self-inflicted wound to the melon
Just remember y'all, I had the mouthpiece of car salesman
Whomp beat of a gorilla, peel a cap back, to the tender fat
Put out a contract, bring you back your hats
Hypothetically speaking, not any time soon
Fly fittest finest player leakin, Daniel Boone boom BOOM boom
Creepin, fly right through your living room while you're sleepin
Peakin, tweakin, geekin, screamin
Chicken is sneakin but we was supposed to done had a meetin
Renegin fakin in whom I trust, standin outside of the club schemin
Scammin plottin and plannin yammin, yes sir and yes ma'am'n
Double agent, playin a 50's loose cannon, new shoe
You ain't even cool fool dude you a trick (trick)
Take it from the Water Man, straight big stick

[Chorus]

[E-40]
The beat keeps knockin down my rear view mirror {*7X*}
Slap!!

. . .


f/ Fabolous, Kokane

[Chorus]
(Kokane & E-40)
Automatic, Systematic
Do what you do playa
Just keep that money on ya mi-i-ind, (on ya mind)
In the traffic, Baller status, (baller status)
Do what you do playa, (what you do)
Just keep on hustlin' on the gri-i-ind, (on the grind)

[Verse 1]
(E-40)
???, Stackin' my mil
Avoidin' the law, Stayin' out of jail
Possesion of sales, Pocket all sales
Conspiracy charges, Hate betrayals
Payin' the rent
Cause I don't write nothin down I keep it all in my head, Intellegent
About my business, Memory like an elephant
Chasin' the dream, Suit up for cream
Special represented tactics team, They out for teams
And infared beams, Pointed at domes, backs, and spleens
Fire hydrons, Ambulance sirens, Spittin' licence, Police indicements
Rightiously what it all boils down to is basically who's the wisest
Ughhh, My heart made of granite
Slow down my spit so you squares can understand it
I didnt come in here empty handed
I came in here on business and yall gone retrospecit dammit
Been out the game, Did that mane
Valejeo I claim, Made the name
Feel my pain, Ghetto fame
Magazine Street hustla mane
Messin' around in the fast lane
Chevy, Cougars and Mustangs
Novas, Granadas, and Falcons
Project livin' and Public housin'

[Chorus]
(Kokane & Fabolous & E-40)
Automatic, Systematic
Do what you do playa
Just keep that money on ya mi-i-ind
(I got my mind on my money and my money on my mind, Ughh)
In the traffic, Baller status, (Ugh)
Do what you do playa, (what you do)
Just keep on hustlin' on the gri-i-ind, (on the grind)

[Verse 2]
(Fabolous)
Its ghetto F-A-Beezy
F-A-Sheezy, Bustas hate me cause I f'ed they breezies
Playboy, These techs spray easy
Like you don't know the hoodrat Hugh Hef play greasy
I get money on the grind
So if you ya mind on my money, I put some money on ya mind
Ya honey gone be mine
Cause ya diamond forecast is partly cloudly
The kids look sunny on the shine
I'm gettin' ticked off again
Ya'll must like ridin' in long black caddy's that they stick coffins in
The Click often been
Blowin' sticky, That come in the jars that they stick coffee in
I got chicks offerin'
But I play hard to get, Unless they suck me 'til my dick soft again
You lookin' at the way the coast to coast g do it
From the Brooklyn to the Bay
Bring the hook in by the way

[Chorus]
(Kokane & E-40)
Automatic, Systematic
Do what you do playa
Just keep that money on ya mi-i-ind, (on ya mind)
In the traffic, Baller status, (baller status)
Do what you do playa, (what you do)
Just keep on hustlin' on the gri-i-ind, (on the grind)
To all you playas out there hustlin', (hustli-i-in)
And all my thugs that be thuggin', (thuggi-i-in)
To all you playas out there hustlin', (out there hustli-i-in)
And all my thugs that be thuggin', (thuggi-i-in)

[Verse 3]
(Fabolous)
It don't matter if you lokin' or bleedin'
Wheather its backwards or zig zags ya smokin' ya weed in
You slow pokin' or speedin'
All that counts to these motherfuckers is if you broke or suceedin'
I'm gettin used to strokin' and sweetin', pokin' and skeetin'
Stayin focused while feedin', so I don't choke what im eatin'
I'm lookin' for towns to put the coke and the weed in
To sit with white folks in a meetin', pleasebaleaveit
(E-40)
I used to sell tapes up out my truck and slang cain, (boom)
Respected on the streets before the fame, (boom)
Aint nothin' lame or game goofy about my game, (boom)
Paid my dues, Obeyed the rules
Stuck to the script, Made a Click
All a my fellows and all a my dawgs
Ridin' mustard and mayonaise on vouges
Feelin' em up, Sittin' em down
Flossin' and Bossin' all over the town
Hardest state benzes ya ever heardin ya life man write that down
(write that down)

[Chorus]
(Kokane & E-40)
Automatic, Systematic
Do what you do playa
Just keep that money on ya mi-i-ind, (on ya mind)
In the traffic, Baller status, (baller status)
Do what you do playa, (what you do)
Just keep on hustlin' on the gri-i-ind, (on the grind)
To all you playas out there hustlin', (hustli-i-in)
And all my thugs that be thuggin', (thuggi-i-in)
To all you playas out there hustlin', (out there hustli-i-in)
And all my thugs that be thuggin', (thuggi-i-in)

. . .


f/ Bun B, Eightball, Lil' Jon & The Eastside Boys, Petey Pablo

Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! hah hah! [4X]

[Hook: Lil' Jon + (Petey Pablo)] - 2X
Rep yo city! Rep yo city! (Rep yo cityyyy!)
Rep yo city! Fuck that shit! (Rep yo cityyyy!)
Rep yo city! Rep yo city! (Rep yo cityyyy!)
Rep yo city! Fuck that shit! (Rep yo cityyyy!)

[Hook 2: Lil' Jon & The Eastside Boys]
My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!
My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!
My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!
My niggaz run this bitch! Nah hoe!

[Lil' Jon] - 2X
Cut loose motherfucker, go bad go hard!
In the club motherfucker, go bad go hard!
In the truck motherfucker, go bad go hard!
Throw it up motherfucker, go bad go hard!

[E-40]
We 30 deep (30 deep) we bleed the block (bleed the block)
We milk the Ave. for damn near e'rythang the Ave. got (Ave. got)
We do the fools (do the fools) we act a nut (act a nut)
We set it off up in this bitch and tear the club up
What it do? What it is pimp juice?
We got a car with the cups in the trunk
For the thugs and the broads with the G-string drawers
up in here straight break it all off (break it all off)
Where the big dawgs at? What city or set ya claim?
Fame, X.O., several drinks of champagne
Hustlers in the game tryna maintain, lost ya chain
outta control, we so cold (so cold)
I'm on another level (another level)
Went head up with the devil (with the devil)
I never been a sucka (been a sucka)
I always been a rebel (been a rebel)
What's your stompin ground? (stompin ground)
What turf you from? (turf you from)
What's you city playboy (what's yo city?) mine 9-4-5-9-1
Vallejo! That's all I yell (that's all I yell)
Speakin of yea' I hope I never have to go back to slangin llello (slangin llello)
We fuckin around (fuckin around) like my niggaz out there in Oak Cliff D-Town
Puttin it down from my house all the way to yo' house
back to the fuckin south!

[Hook: 2X] + [Hook 2]

[Petey Pablo]
Could it be the way that I be reppin (WHYYY!) for my niggaz?
Could it be the way that Petey Petey (RIIDE!) for my niggaz?
Showin niggaz love (love) raise up motherfucker!
You need to be reachin down pullin yo God-damn shirt up, that's love!
Wherever you live, wherever you from, wherever you call your home
Wherever you lay yo' God-damn Kangol down motherfucker!
Wherever you cheddar cheese, churn cream, lick that butter
Wherever yo' ass got lots of fat for all that God-damn trunk
Y'all niggaz don't understand the seriousness of what Petey be sayin
I took a unknown piece land (and planted) a God-damn flag!
Say I didn't (DID!) motherfucker I'd die for this
I done my God-damn thang, I brought my folks in this somma bitch
Hot Atlanta! The Bay Area!
Y'all niggaz don't want no noise (noise!) with Lil' Jon & The Eastside Boys
(Boys!) Y'all niggaz don't want no shit (shit) with E-40 & The Click
(The Click) And you can say whatchu want homeboy
(homeboy) I'll always be the one that ill!

[Hook: 2X] + [Hook 2]

[Bun B]
From the land of the trill, where the vanity's real
And yo man'll be peeled or at least branded, God-damnit we ill
More horror than "Amityville", no sorrow; hand me the steel
Your tomorrow I can't even feel - oughta be plannin ya will
UGK ain't dropped in a while, but still we stoppin ya smile
Keepin boppers in file, standin on top of the pile
And you'll get popped with a smile, this ain't bout shoppin and style
This bout syrup and candy paint, you see us choppin for miles
Out the black and the 'Lac, swingers clap and if they take yo' flax
You'll get smacked for your packs, paper stacks and you'll crack-back yo' back
Hold up, they got game to sell ya, from drugs to paraphenalia
Gun-hand'll never fail ya, ask Rollie B, he'll tell ya

[Eightball]
Memph', Tenn representer (uhh) Orange Mile nigga (yeah)
Symbol of the south, legendary rhyme spitter (uh-huh)
From Memphis to Mississippi, deep off in the woods (uhh)
From A-T-L to M-I-A, deep off in the hood (yeah)
Twankies on coupes (yeah) money-makin sluts (what)
You trippin if ya ain't got 22's on ya trucks
Dogs in the yard (yeah) pistol on the seat (uhh)
Sticky rolled up for them blunt monkey freaks
My nigga Earl hollered (whassup) big Ball got it poppin (that's right)
Smoked me a couple, hit the studio and dropped it
For all my dawgs who keep it G and keep it crunk
Represent yo' city, let 'em know where you from

[Hook] + [Hook 2]

. . .



(talking)
What it do, what that is pimp
What you say, talk to me I talk back
Oooh, I heard that, oooh

[E-40]
Skinny bank, that bank, foreign cars, candy paint
Jelly jars, battle scars, rap stars, pin and ranks
Drinkin drank, hit the dank, getting stank, for my skank
Stick and move, show improve, ghetto jew, think I ain't
Have the grip, pockets fit, dirty stained mattress man
Chopping up llelo, top of the dirty ass piece and mattress man
Put a razor blade in a safety pain in my hand
Flipping incarceration, penitentiary chances man
Half a grand I spend a day, check your feet, half a pow wow
Off some weed, love the pow wow, when I keep, keep my style now
Watch me speed, trust the cuff they love that
Rubies spent off, walk with a limp walk ?

(Chorus)
Say you wanna be a rap star, drive a real nice car
Without true game you can't get far, but it's all gravity
Struggling, gritting grinding mayn, it's all gravity
It's all gravity, I'm so deep off in this game
It's all gravity, struggling, gritting grinding mayn
It's all gravity, I'm so deep off in this game

[E-40]
Just something that was happening now, like goomer pile
I predict in about a month, ya'll gone love this huh
Make a gangsta wanna funk, all in your trunk
Got him hollering yeah that shit there ain't no punk
Fully recouped, money chunky like the soup
Back in the days I use to rock a troop jacket
Me and everybody in my cabinet, we was shining
If you had the Troop jacket you was timing
So who the playa, even if I'm in a pinto
Show some respect little niggas see I'm respectable
My hoochie is a general, a silent soldier, no faking
Quick to set an example put down a demonstration
Wake you up to a rude awakening and no escaping and
Once I give you the phone I put a shake on in
See I done did it, and lived it, and done it, hit the block
Choke a motherfucker out for trying to short stop

(Chorus)

[E-40]
Make no mistake about it, I'm smoking hell-a-tweed
That ain't organic, nigga that's designer weed
No it ain't, yeah it is, no it ain't
No it ain't, yeah it is, no it ain't, yeah it is
Scream, holla, scream and shout it, I love my folks to death
Way too many kids in the kitchen but I'm the iron chef
Too many chiefs, but not enough indians
See everybody needs to play they position
I'm pitching, leader of the squad, be on the look-out for my
Brand new clothing line, my brand new clothing line is called Shob
Rossi wine, Carlos Rossi wine is what I drink
Not all the time but most of the time it helps a playa think
Look in my eyes, look in my eyes they the same color as garlic butter
Look at my guys, look at my guys, they off that Goldschlager
It's a daily routine, I mean, I mean we do this here
So savagely pimperoni it's all gravity

(Chorus - 2x)

. . .


f/ Kokane

[Chorus: Kokane]
Doin too much (too much), seven much (too much)
Don't you know that I'm the one
You can't get nothin over on me
Doin too much (too much), way too much (too much)
You doin too much - I'm the one

[E-40]
I see you over there peepin a player out from hella far away
Tryin to get with some of this here mackin
Apparently you ain't tryin hard enough cause if you was
you woulda been made your way over here to the V.I.P. with us
Where yo' man at? What's the matter with that clown
leavin a sharp-ass lil' broad like you up in here with all us players?
Hopefully you up in here with some of yo' friends, so some of my friends
can get with some of yo' friends and turn it into somethin
I'M - fin' to walk over here to the bar and get the bartender
to mix me one of my customized drinks without the blender
Get everybody up in the club up in here off the numb-numb juice
Vodka, 7-Up, and cran-apple juice (eww)
The ladies outnumber the fellas six-to-one
And me and my fellas up in here like good one pimp, we all won
The pretty ones in here are hot like a dog in heat
Touchin they toes, backin it up, and dancin like a freak

[Chorus]

[E-40]
MAN! I'm over here on super-purp' (super-purp')
Up in the club hollerin at somebody else's work
Yeah pimpin I'm up on all the slang that you make up
But I believe you stay about your marbles and be about your bacon
Youse a player about yours and I'm sensin and smellin
that youse one of them sharp-ass lil' sisters huh?
Might even want you to be my baby, maybe ma
Speakin upon my baby ma, here she comes
And she hoodrat, hoodrat, hoochie momma
Same ol', same ol', dry-ass drama (drama)
Comin up in my face about the, child support
Talkin about, takin me to court (to court)

[Kokane]
Eww eww eww, takin me to court, can't work me
Most of these hoes be mo' full of shit than a Christmas turkey

[Chorus]

[E-40]
Well alright ho
Boss mo', player hater hater my noggin
D-Boy, people swear up and down I'm a rocker
But I'm a soil block turf hog built for battle
15's in the trunk, like a snake they rattle
Leave skid marks all on the gravel
Drivin like a bat outta hell to the hotel
Bounce roll rock skate side to side
Baby got the gin and the Astroglade (and the Astroglade)
I hopin that the jimmy don't bust
while I thrust much cush gush knock boots with lust
Swish swush loose nuts drop juice drip stuff
One two three fo' five six seven much!

[Chorus]

[Kokane]
Baby baby baby baby you doin too much (and all the fellas say)
Ah la la la la, la la (and all the ladies say)
Ohh la la la la, la la (and all the fellas say)
Ohh la la la la, la la (and all the ladies say)
Ohh la la la la, la la (and all the fellas say)
Ohh la la la la, la la (and all the ladies say)
{*fades out*}

. . .

Mustard & Mayonnaise

[No lyrics]

. . .



Throw me a bone and some crumbs watch me turn it over and flip it
Ballatician, man, ballaholic I'm ballerific
Stop and listen give me yo undivided attention
40 talk like E.F. Hutton... shhhh, people listen
Man that boy there right there be clownin he do the foo!
Hustle Charlie water that playa there hella coo!
Often imitated but never dismemblicated
Kilo grams of coke and that broccoli I used to weigh it
Smokin' Ahfganny in the candy blue drop the mail
On my way to Richmond to buy me some new apparel
Bendin' corners, gettin' it quick and talkin bout lookin'
"There go fonzerelli I'm feelin that mans music"
Won't you quit that shit you be talkin, its big spit
Later for them suckas they tardy they ain't hit
Disobeying ???? from you ??? don't let her see
Get you're wonder bread pepperoni watch it increase

[Chorus x2]
Mustard and Mayonnaise! Tennis shoes, lowenheart, drivers lorenzos, 22's
Big bread, big spread, big scratch,big cars, turf hogs, Cadillacs

Watchout ersky perky it's seldom you see me thirsty
Gatorade bottle full of Burgundy Carlos Rossy
Lift yo head high, we might take you up out yo body
Me and my mossy motherfuckers life of the party
Give it to me baby you know what I'm lookin fo'
A super ghetto hoe, big ol' ass like J-Lo
Club packed, like a Detroit hair show
Dug that, she can teach the wind how to blow
She can teach frosty how to snow, right, glow
in the dark lay, night, fireworks, sparklight, ALL-night
Ride her like Olympic style tour de' france bike
Brand new upholstery, flambostly out wit the fellas
In the hotel lobby wit honey gettin jealous
Ain't nobody trippin', but patna, he outta line
Spray myself with sucker-repellent pulled out my nine

[Chorus x2]

I got a shortage of supply and demand when its drought
Buy low, sell high, my marble route
Know about the weather before its about to change
My repo, they distribute, they repo be drivin planes
Watch out for them folks and them K-9's sniffin them thangs
Bricks, kicks, hittin MC's and door panels man
I run my game from Frisco to Maine, pimpin long range
Fast quarter fuck a slow nickel thats chump change
Place your order, high yellow jazzy, light bright and almost like
Chocolate trailer trashy mcnasty throw away but now she's classy
Cuz her sugar daddy done put her up in the sink
Washed her up got her dressed in hot pink in mink

[Chorus x2]

Gotta ride on vogues when we fly by
Underlay ??? Bonita bye bye
Mustard and mayonnaise smokin up at the sky light
You can't touch my vogues baby bye bye..

. . .


f/ Suga-T

(Chorus - 2x)
I got my cup, I got my plastic cup
I got my cup, I got my plastic cup
I got my cup, I got my plastic cup
You got your cup (I got my cup)

[E-40]
One of these playas is doing they own thang
And some of these playas is kinda the same
One of these playas is unlike the others
Now it's time to spit my game
I'm leaning, I got that purple colors brightness
Ms. Buttersworth up in my white cup, white cup
Codeine'ing, dropping that Swishahouse groove music
And I'm fucked up, and I'm fucked up
A playa's sweating, shoot dice up under the staircase
Talking hell-a-loud grabbing his balls and side betting like a veteran
All my weeples just come hard, reach into my pockets
Pulled out a wad of money and I threw my dogs up on it
It's expected, cause way back when I couldn't afford
When a playa like me was leaking, had my back like a ? board
Now that I'm eating, the game done blessed me mayn
Everyday is my birthday, I'm about that ice cream and cake
Looking for a batch with no pan and
I'm a guerilla meals must like Brandy
Like the R&B singer, Christian brother twist
Getting gone, plastic cup in the traffic bumping this

(Chorus - 2x)

[E-40]
Hickory dickory dock
I dick the boost down with my dock
I was on stuck, she was on top
Pour me some more in my cup

[Suga-T]
We working with a lot, can't let em catch us slipping
Can't sit the cup down, can't let em know we tripping
I'ma keep a cup, full of Check-A-Hater juice
Eyes behind my head, can't let em catch me loose
He's a fool, usually wanting to put it on me
Got a low attention span, and the average can't afford me
I'm a boss chick, like that-that-that-that-that-that
And you are bossy uh, I got your back

(Chorus - 2x)

[E-40]
Head, shoulders, knees and toes
Pimps, playas, hustlas, hoes
Simps, haters, bustas, marks
Saps, suckas, haters, sars
Well I'm at a park, at a club after dark
At a football game, your date in the parking lot
Them hoochies know my name, I'm not a popsicle
But a fool, can you do the other side of the pimp
Stick and move, all about my uh paper route
When I'm drunk, that's when my true feelings come out
I ain't no punk, you got your easmic stuff
Plus some funk, in real life I'll fuck you up

(Chorus - 2x)

. . .

Whomp Whomp

[No lyrics]

. . .



[Verse 1]
Desperado always drinkin' out the bottle
Young hyena with the HK hollow point staple spray
Turf tight soil block warrior from the avenue
Mean muggin' like I'm mad at you
Boiler make Baker's whiskey mixed in with my brew
Celebratin' smoking Mendocino bud this is the lifestyle of a thug
A hooligan a heathen wolverine everybody on my team got a triple beam
Tossin' candy to the dope fiends
Million dollar spot million dollar dreams
Four or five different colored techa-marines
Yellow diamonds and stones and two-way pager phones
Plushed out SUV's smokin Leprechaun
Flowers in the back seat watchin' Austin Powers with the windows up
Lost tryin' to get where we gettin'
Talking to the operator on my OnStar system

[Chorus x2]
This is the lifestyle that I choose
We smoke tweed get ki'd all day and drink brews
Which of these rap stars fart, shit, burp and get paper
Spray myself with sucka repellent and shake haters

[Verse 2]
Every morning I got to have a nice fat joint and a hot bubble bath
Wrapped in a Backwood or a Zig-Zag
Eyes red like a broad on a rag
My pants sag down past my waistline with the vive
When I leave the coffee table got my nine by my spine
Funkin' like its goin' out of style
Mo' beef than a cow speakin ebonics
Evonics and broken English from Venus
Intelligent hoodlums and geniuses
From the inner city Al Capones and Frank Nittys
From the ruler to the tutor hubba heada shoota
In the back for a hubble rock or crack

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3]
See uh I just look like this but I'm really about my scratch
See what it is I want the po-pos to think that
I'm just as square as a box of apple jacks
I shoot craps drive GMC Avalanches and EXT Cadillacs
If you snooze you lose I know you got a lot a trust in your dudes
But check for traps and clues nobodys playin' by the rules anymore
Not even the people that made 'em up
My hood is corrupted and full of infidel one poverty
Not too much faithfulness mostly all betrayal
Mostly all my folks are dead or locked away in jail
Speakin' about some people that I miss
Tijuana Carter, Ricardo Slay and Lisa Smith
Fred, Tito, Pat and Kobe and OG dead brother Fab the big homie
Hillside representin' this to the fullest
And all my homies locked down pullin' bullets

[Chorus x3]

Uhhhhhhh!

. . .


f/ Bosko, Suga Free

(talking)
Testing testing, Bosko where they at
Tonight swinger what we getting into

[Chorus: Bosko - 2x]
If you wanna dance we can do it tonight
If you wanna smoke c'mon it's alright
If you wanna drink c'mon we popping Don Perion
Doing the damn thang till the dawn

[E-40: bridge]
Love me tender, love me sweet, I'm a thug, pack my heat
All I do is spit these ki's, L-I-P's, overseas
Get your feddy, stack your bread
Make them duck heads give you head
If it's money, bout them dollas
Jack your stacks and pop your collars

[Verse 1: E-40]
Ooooh, fa shiggedel
So slick, so sly, so slal
Ghost pick, those thighs, those gals
Came prepared, to my last show
Fire it up, wire it up off of the a sal
Hide in the birds trying to throw it at me now
Let me breathe on you for a minute as I snatch up
This fine ass little brusslesprout and I have to apprehend her

[Chorus]

[Verse 2: Suga Free]
Now guess what, what, chicken butt
Bitch goody goody, wait a minute
It wouldn't be cracking if my cousin
4-Tre wasn't in it, goody goody
Now if you wanna dance, smoke, drink
We got the party cracking like all for you baby
Goody goody, god, make a pimp wanna jump back
Goody goody, don't stop, the beat rock
Cause we hot, the heat rock, and don't stop
Believing, just get your money where you're breathing
This is for the thugs set butts in they laps, goody goody
And this is for E-40 and The Click in the land goody goody

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: E-40]
I prosaic, chemically imbalanced
Black folks, lactose and tolerance
Red cup, strictly riding gut
Hard licking tricking, bitch playa banked up
Love the baby with the big butt
Walking up, to my F5-50 truck
What's your name, Sandra
Like that, where you from, Atlanta

[E-40: Bridge]

[Chorus - 2x]

. . .



[Intro]
It's the end of the world (world)
Everybody's lookin for some satisfaction
I just want me a girl (girl)
Every motherfucker with some weed start passin
It's the end of the game (game)
All my fuckin homies chasin G's ain't nothin
It ain't hard to explain (explain)

[E-40]
Came in the game with a few dollars, I left the game with a few mill'
That's the way I woulda retired from this rap game fo' real
Get a distribution deal, brush up some of this dirty scrill
Live up on the hill, like E-40 Fonzariggadale - end of my history
Showin some love to all of my thugs, all of my folks incarcerated
Liftin waterbacks and drinkin mud, walkin the yard with they elbow up
Poppy grains crushed up, big A and little A
My cousin Freddy Smith and Mack North, see ya when you touch down
Man I'm doin alright, I missed your call the other day
But I got yo' kite, you know my cousin such-and-such done got back on the pipe
They took her down the other night for tryin to steal a bike
Anyway, we walkin on, man I can't wait 'til y'all get home
Man there's so many funny style-ass negroes on this earth the real ones gone
Hoe shit lead to mo' shit (mo' shit)
Gats is cheap man ain't no mo' money left out here
Man I'm one of the last of the Mohicans

[Chorus]
It's the end of the world (world)
Everybody's lookin for some satisfaction
I just want me a girl (girl)
Every motherfucker with some weed start passin
It's the end of the game (game)
All my fuckin homies chasin G's ain't nothin
It ain't hard to explain (explain)
My gunspray'll pop this off the world keep stackin

[E-40]
Uhhhhhh, I ain't tryin to be landin in a {?}
For whatever it's worth I'ma get off first
Better him than me though, I done got down on fools befo'
Come with the package 'specially when you're out there pitchin blow
I wear these glasses to look like a nerd, square off like Urkel
Movin too fast like turbo, gotta slow it down like turtles
Scrillionaire, millionaire, overcomin obstacles and hurdles
There's somethin 'bout my circle
Surrounded by Saggitarius, not too many Virgos
Just Scorpios and Aries, like...
Like right now I'm in the local booth, whassup slugger?
Hey Pimp Juice! Ya alright? Oh fo' sho'! Fa shiggadale
You got some tweak? Nope I smoked it to the fingernails
The fingernails? Yeah cuz-o, the fingernails
Man I'm so high right now that I can barely even spell
Barely spell? On the real pimpin I can't tell
Pimpin you lyin I, yeah mayn I'm drunk as hell

[Chorus]

[E-40]
It's about a quarter after nine (nine) I know I opened up
a verse with that line before but I'ma say it one mo' time
I think I drunk too much wine (too much wine)
Anybody got a Motrin? I feel like my head's explodin
Wakin up in the mornin, squeezin and fartin and yawnin
Smokin a joint to the dome and
Talkin on my burnt out phone and, to my breakin broad that ain't knowin
To my mistress broad be hoein, my mistress broad that's hoein
In lieu of my pregnant broad that's showin, glarin and glowin
Ready to drop the load explode, sittin on the porch, lightin a torch
Puffin on a clove, in and out of church, back and forth
Hustlin gangster mode, run back in on that turf, sellin that Nerf
That soft white rocky road, dolla danglin for danglin gangland
Manglin (manglin), set you up and bangin claimin (claimin)
The park in the game that rainin, off there drinkin and thinkin
Chokin and sparkin and flamin, barely maintainin (barely maintainin)
Hopin and wishin and dreamin the Lord'll let me into his kingdom
(Let me into his kingdom)

[Chorus] - 2X

. . .



[E-40]
Ooooh (ooooh) pencil me in (pencil me in)
It's Fonzarelli the Ballatician in yo' face again
Back again, happenin, with my folks and next of kin
Asians blacks and Mexicans, caucausian folks and all my friends
Lost on gin, count to ten, fits to turtle, hold it in
Northern Cali, scrilla gone Valley, California fools'll do ya
Like this song? Sing along, 40 Water man you know he wrong
In the traffic mayn on the phone, bright candy on all that chrome
Shoes and socks, Jacob watch, CD changer with the knock
Cock glock back stack leave yo' head off in yo' lap
Mark mark sip sap, you ain't gotta like the way
this pimp spit this rap, I don't like you anyway

[Chorus 2X: E-40]
This a man's game, stay up out the lane
if you can't hang with the gangbang
Players pimps and hustlers from the sewer pipes and gutter drains
Players pushin mary jane, gorillas in the mix of thangs
Boss unleashin off the chain

[E-40]
I was in my Chevy blunted doin about a hundred (hundred)
Dippin through my hood but the hood lookin haunted (haunted)
Task musta raided (raided) I hope my homies made it (made it)
I hope they got some yo-yo left, I hope they didn't confiscated it
I hope nobody got shot to death, I hope nobody bleedin
I hope they didn't come through dumpin with they street-sweepers sweepin
Put to rest, layin in the mortuary in there sleepin
Put a hole in the flesh, formaldehyde to stop the place from stinkin
Drinkin vodka {?} coppin mo' +Keys+ than +Alicia+
From Yakama all the way to Canada, they think I'm a janitor
Man of the hour devour I'm mo' ready with some sour
Slippin sticky, dowicky, smokin turtle with my partners chillin

[Chorus]

[E-40]
Ecstasy, dirty piss test test
Cause he got five different drugs up inside of he
Can't get a J-O-B, nobody wanna hire he
Ex-con, parole with a felony
Some of my dudes be smokin cloves
Some of my dudes be powderin they nose
Some of my dudes be off that kangaroo
Some of my dudes be drunk like me and you
Some of my dudes be off that nave
That's that shit them city boys done fucked around and made
Some of my dudes be off that lean
That prescription, that syrup, that codeine

[Chorus]

[E-40]
This a man's game {*5X*}
This a man's game pimp, this a man's game
Ooooh

. . .


f/ James "Stomp Down" Bailey

(talking)
Yeah, pimps up hoes down, yeah
Hustlas, playas, gangstas, gangstas, yeah
Fa shiggedel, shiggedy, uh, click shit down
What is it, check this out

[E-40]
Raised in the heart of the ghetto, dipping and dodging the metro
Pitching the ? and coke that's what I use to pedal
Heavy metal, a j-jack of all trays
Then you pimp, that's a hustler in many ways
Acting bad in the traffic, the hustler with the package
Serving that cha-cha, that yell, they all tragic magic
Plastic baggage, jelly jars in microwaves
Got to have it, backwoods and purple hayes
Mess around in my side of town, get clowned down
John, Jane Doe, lost and found
Everybody know this young player's about his business
Riches, chickens I pimp, but lickeness
My L.I.P.I folks be digging this
Devon, Pimpy Gear, Max Queezthis
Gorilla, Scarp Down, no conscience
In this occupation you can't be generous
Me and my fellas be bossing, dipping the pander and flossing
No matter how much it's costing we do this often cause we

(Chorus - 8x)
We just some pimps, playas
Hustlas, gangstas

[James "Stomp Down" Bailey]
Walk that walk, when you talk that talk
Get your scrilla, be a pimp about it when you on your hustle
Have heart, have money, have muscle
Make sure your L-I-P's be on a rumble
It's like A-B-C's when I spit it
Don't even spot me on the map, 40 did it
When you dead nigga shitted in they bridges
You got a house that's sold out full of bitches
I be the proudest old son of Sick Wid It
Know I'm coming cause I walk with a limp and
Step to the ladder like a playa now I'm pimping
Never gabbles in a hoe and come up with it
Navi cars and a home there's no limit
And I could rock a Prada suit and I feel it
You know I'm bout to buy a bentley in a minute
Fresh off the showroom floor when I spend it

(Chorus - 8x)

[E-40]
H-I double L Side
13-24 Magazine where I resigned
1-9-7-0 Oldsmobile Cutlass is what I drive
With the same colored tent as the paint, who that inside
And hiding behind that cloud of smoke, waving they gun
Girl that's 40 and them they some factors they all one
Them playas got more paper than ?keegles? and than some
I always see them at the casino bossing and smabbing
Surrounded by a whole bunch of people placing they bet and
Sitting at the gambling table just like some veterans
Talking to they fans drinking Purken and playing Roulette and
Hold up, sweet heart, I'm not done
You know I'm from the Yay where all the game come from
I'm O.G., like the candle light grip
I'm company, Too Sheezy and Magic Mike
I'm the one that named the burn out sparkies
Back in the days when everybody was happy in they cabinet
And bags, I know you know, that it's a drought
Real brothers like me where did they go
Somebody tell me where my

(Chorus - 8x)

. . .


f/ James "Stomp Down" Bailey

(talking)
Yeah, pimps up hoes down, yeah
Hustlas, playas, gangstas, gangstas, yeah
Fa shiggedel, shiggedy, uh, click shit down
What is it, check this out

[E-40]
Raised in the heart of the ghetto, dipping and dodging the metro
Pitching the ? and coke that's what I use to pedal
Heavy metal, a j-jack of all trays
Then you pimp, that's a hustler in many ways
Acting bad in the traffic, the hustler with the package
Serving that cha-cha, that yell, they all tragic magic
Plastic baggage, jelly jars in microwaves
Got to have it, backwoods and purple hayes
Mess around in my side of town, get clowned down
John, Jane Doe, lost and found
Everybody know this young player's about his business
Riches, chickens I pimp, but lickeness
My L.I.P.I folks be digging this
Devon, Pimpy Gear, Max Queezthis
Gorilla, Scarp Down, no conscience
In this occupation you can't be generous
Me and my fellas be bossing, dipping the pander and flossing
No matter how much it's costing we do this often cause we

(Chorus - 8x)
We just some pimps, playas
Hustlas, gangstas

[James "Stomp Down" Bailey]
Walk that walk, when you talk that talk
Get your scrilla, be a pimp about it when you on your hustle
Have heart, have money, have muscle
Make sure your L-I-P's be on a rumble
It's like A-B-C's when I spit it
Don't even spot me on the map, 40 did it
When you dead nigga shitted in they bridges
You got a house that's sold out full of bitches
I be the proudest old son of Sick Wid It
Know I'm coming cause I walk with a limp and
Step to the ladder like a playa now I'm pimping
Never gabbles in a hoe and come up with it
Navi cars and a home there's no limit
And I could rock a Prada suit and I feel it
You know I'm bout to buy a bentley in a minute
Fresh off the showroom floor when I spend it

(Chorus - 8x)

[E-40]
H-I double L Side
13-24 Magazine where I resigned
1-9-7-0 Oldsmobile Cutlass is what I drive
With the same colored tent as the paint, who that inside
And hiding behind that cloud of smoke, waving they gun
Girl that's 40 and them they some factors they all one
Them playas got more paper than ?keegles? and than some
I always see them at the casino bossing and smabbing
Surrounded by a whole bunch of people placing they bet and
Sitting at the gambling table just like some veterans
Talking to they fans drinking Purken and playing Roulette and
Hold up, sweet heart, I'm not done
You know I'm from the Yay where all the game come from
I'm O.G., like the candle light grip
I'm company, Too Sheezy and Magic Mike
I'm the one that named the burn out sparkies
Back in the days when everybody was happy in they cabinet
And bags, I know you know, that it's a drought
Real brothers like me where did they go
Somebody tell me where my

(Chorus - 8x)

. . .



From a small ass little tadpole swimmin in a fallopian tube
To a fixture on my soil, a stand up type a dude
I was brought up in the crack game dealin and pushin that stuff
Arguing with my folkers cause we loved eachother so much
Ditchin and dodgin the rollers, grippin the block real tuff
Strikin and scootin them Novas and them Chevrolet stepside trucks
Me and my brother Dennel, Kevin, Dalon, and Black
Little Ray, Billy, and Ivory and them from the Magazine Street camp
Posted up like thumbtacks, talking on faulty big backs
Motorola, A1 yola, glad bag fulla Tic Tacs
In the mean time, in between time, in my spare time writin raps
In the front yard, in the driveway, on the concrete shootin craps

You think you know, but you really don't have no idea
Listen to discography of E40, real talk for real
Moons ago, way before I even had a career
I got my nickname on the turf for drinking hecka beer
And never letting the older cats up in my hood pump fear
Funkin with my own soil, listen here
Jealous cause we had all the broads and all the gear
Up the ladder I'm tryin to climb, game sharper than a porcupine spine
Don't gimme nothing, I'ma work for mine, try and grind, grit and grind
Hot ones echo through the ghetto, funkin all the time
I thank the Lord for giving me the gift to spit this rhyme

A loaf of bread, a stick of butter and some milk
Around the corner from the spot where all the dealers dealt
Trials and tribul-i-zations, me and my peopl-i-zations
Tryin to get this music off the ground with high ass expectations
Took a little time and patience, a little faith in God
To make a long story short, look at me now sahob
I'm doing it chubby like the checker, chunky like the soup
A de- a decade and a half and still in the loop
In case you suckers didn't know, I told you once before
I ain't rapping too fast, see y'all just listening too slow
I paved the way for the independent grind
The industry they mimick me, but don't wanna gimme mine

. . .

Roll On

[No lyrics]

. . .


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