Ring It – E-40 – letras

(Forty Fonzarelli’s answering machine)Aight, what’s really? You hit my lifer numberThis Sick Wid It/Jive RecordsLeave your message at the beep *BEEP*Hah! Mmmhmmm. Yeah, uhh… on my pager!What you say? Oh yeah. Kick that shit then nigga!Verse One: Keek tha Sneak, E-40, Spice-1Higher than a bird, off that herb, in the O-A-KOff on perv, parked on curb, rollin up a vayLicked it three times, laced it with the AlizeAbout twomp a day, baby hit me frequent-lay!Sneak, and Forty, from chocolate short-ay, we beenall prepared, cause my nights is no day, the broad sayI last! Cause you six monthsBut I say, she pullin a gang of major stuntsBust, bust niggaz, consequences when you’re doin the doFuck around and get caught up in a catch twenty-twoIn the area! Dirt and dustWhere the yah! B.A. PlusBut ain’t yo sista Suga-T? (Suga-T)Ain’t you the one that say Sprinkle Me (Sprinkle Me)I loves me some Forty-RidahI seen you up in 2Pac’s video poppin your collarI play this playa shit like Bugs BunnyAin’t no cartoon figure nigga I makes money, ain’t nuttin funnyIf you’re ever in some funk, call your potnah on the celland leave one-eighty-seven, at the end of the numberB-uh-Benzy on Washington, on the cellular phoneYou could tell that the Easy Bay was his homeMy people goin off like a high school build’And all my money in stacks, and all my pockets on swellM-uh-mobbin like a playa, but I’m still a G doePager goin off like C-3POTime for the Hurricane, E said wordI put a nigga on his back, fuck what you heardChorus: repeat 2XIf it’s major, hit me on my pagerRang it, ring it, rang it, ring it, ring my telephone, ring my telephoneVerse Two: E-40, HarmI be so rebel-yalousWhen I’m talkin on my phone-telyalousYou can have my baitch, but I maintainI chop it up as a loss and charge it to the gameShe said you must be playin some kind of phone tagCause erytime I hit you, you don’t hit me backWhy is dat? Cause you’re hella hard to get in contact withThought you thought, was killin big girl was crackin on some crabsSix o’clock, the girl said that’s my crib be at the West plusdue to go, left me at home be leavin my ass up in the living room all aloneAnd I be starvin rubbin my monkey fiendin for some Donkey KongNow you’re talkin, let’s get the show on the roadI know you’re tired of barkin, you need to hop on my loadSo we can stab out, strike rock and Arroyo Parkat the top of hill, so I can check your oilI said ah one to the two ah two to two threeTell me why your baby momma keep on pagin meI didn’t give the hoe the number, so why does she callShe says she wanna do me, and all of y’allBut I’m like that nigga on The Mack, I don’t want the honeyI want the money some of you niggaz is funny style and meanwhileI’m sellin my piece to these tricks cause it’s the paperchaselaced with game, see I’m livin in the hustlers dreamCall up a player if it’s majorSpecially if it’s scrilla nigga hit me on my pagerChorusVerse Three: Sneak, E-40Rang it, baby gimme a callMy name you’re screamin, how I be hittin them wallsYou got me tinglin, how you be workin them drawersWith a kiss I make em all say this, yeah that’s rawI glance your cut, bass we uhh, big cheekswith a blast headin straight for the nut, big A&Hgot some bitches all in the cut, it’s that seasonDrop my number to the hoe to hit me upYo, you’re nine-one-oneing me to death, what’s all that fo’Got my Williams and fillin my pager and pager on the overflo’What’s happenin with all that old bullshitis it really all that damn seriousYou’re draining the hell out of my batterygot your partner thinkin curiousCause in the Y-E-A A-R-E-A the game ain’t constipatedBuckin around in the Golden State where the game originatedFools be scandalous they used to be squares be turnin viciousHit me on pager, hit me if it’s major