E-40

[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