The Slap – E-40 – letras

[E-40]Ooooh, I’m every scene but gossip, my weeblization be thugMy music be all in the club and my fo’ 15’s be subAnd my drums and my brake pads on my car be rubberMy oldest, and my youngest son always nugginBumpin, me and my catholic savage, badnessDumpin, on phony-ass fake-ass plastic, faggotsGrindin, dippin and divin on fine, pressureRhymin, in the +Lab+ like +Dexter+Packin Winchester, and a trey SylvesterCatch a, bitch-a, out there oughta wet’chaKinda sorta liquored, liquor kinda sore, measure, gramsDigital scale, green eggs & hamsYams, candy yams, spam, DAMN!Loaded, my cheese, peanut butter & jamSam’mich, mannish, me and my hispanicsVanish, 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 folksis fuckin with (the slap!)[E-40]I’ve got white girl for sale!And I don’t mean caucausian, I’m talkin about yale2-way goin off, like a high school {?}A hundred bucks it cost me for my faulty chip saleAround the corner from Starbucks coffee talkin to my {?}My frontin lil’ broad up out of Tacoma askin for some mailLike I’m some type of trick deally musty mouth BOOTCHGet smacked silly, get smacked sillyMusty mouth BOOTCH, get smacked sillyPuffin on a Phizznilly blunt, I’m really realHerbal kill deal chill pill scrill deal (deal)Feel ’til Phil heal skill (skill)Grindin, grittin & grindin, lurkin, seekin and searchinSkirtin, 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 itServin, to die for, top, bleedin the block for raviMilkin the block for fetti like a pregnant bitch’s titties[Chorus][E-40]Ooooh, oooohTalk my way out of anything, got my hands off in everythingIf my money ever got funny, I’d pawn my Walter Potter engagement ringIf I was to pass away tomorrow, with a self-inflicted wound to the melonJust remember y’all, I had the mouthpiece of car salesmanWhomp beat of a gorilla, peel a cap back, to the tender fatPut out a contract, bring you back your hatsHypothetically speaking, not any time soonFly fittest finest player leakin, Daniel Boone boom BOOM boomCreepin, fly right through your living room while you’re sleepinPeakin, tweakin, geekin, screaminChicken is sneakin but we was supposed to done had a meetinRenegin fakin in whom I trust, standin outside of the club scheminScammin plottin and plannin yammin, yes sir and yes ma’am’nDouble agent, playin a 50’s loose cannon, new shoeYou 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!!