Prepared – E-40 – letras

[Chorus: x2]Ride with the thumper, pimp I ain’t scaredYou call it paranoid I call it preparedI never bust in the air!I never bust in the air![Verse 1:]Ooh!A noun is a person, place or thing my mackin’ (my mackin’)But people be calling me verse cause I’m about that actionI’m standing outside of myself looking at me (looking at’chu?)Off this boat diddly bow and the eighth of broccoliWe working real limited space maneDon’t fuck around with fakes maneThem fragile muthafuckas a get my period ass erased maneGet rid of the dead weight maneBefore I get too late maneI live in the Bay where they mad-ed the famous word ‘playa hate’ maneI was forced to be a monsta, I turn into sumthin'[?] long as I can see it comingI take it there I keep a spare hundred round drummingGive you a pass if you with’cha kids or ya womanDepending on where I’m at what time of the day and how I’m feelingBut non Rk outside of the club or in the fuckin’ buildingI’m having my bread getting my means having my fuckin’ cashRemove ya head I put it on skinnies I’ll beat that ass[Chorus x2][Verse 2:]Watch ya drinks when ya purp (in ya purp)Got a Oldsmobile high alert, when ya see a chick flirtNever know cause a bitch could have a wire in her skirtNever know cause a bitch can have a camera in her purseNever call nobody a snitch until you see some paper workIt’s a new game, tell on Hilmar he goin tell firstThis is true mane, the rule done changed they need to be rehearsedNowadays these youngstas out here shoot you for a verseBeing scarred since they birth, no Christmas jingle bellsParents ain’t home so they raising they self’sI’m into worry I’m out the way I ain’t out here stunnin’ the clumsyI don’t want none of these hungry niggaz to think I got moneyStay polished in them shopKeeping it one hunnit is my muthafuckin jobAnd anybody would want it can get the whole catalogThe cartridge, the clipThe po-po and they dogs I might be dumb but I ain’t stupidBia, biatch[Chorus x2][Verse 3:]I was remember when I was littleA lil young mustache when I got my first pistolFrom my best friend potna’s dad he was a loosey machine IsrealIn a Safeway paper bagFor the playa pricer nickel, cause he was doing kinda bagHe used to fuck around with the triple, once known to flossBragging about what he had and everything he lostAnybody disrespect him I’m a chop they head offOn the streets he a fiend but in the pen he a bossI’m rubber up on game not the rapper that’s my pastWatching Og shoot the shit and pow-wowA sponge it up like Sham-wowHow do ya like me now?Wherever it is in this rapping got a silly ass styleI might be stronger than my ground (growling)Then my Chevy on the prow (growls)I been in the dark and loud as I wanna be, smoking on some broccoliAll the bitches jockin’ me, police always bother me…Biatch![Chorus x2]OoooohhhhhI never bust in the air!