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E-40 - In a Major Way Album Lyrics



E-40 - In a Major Way Lyrics






Intro

I dont spit mad force, i spit l-i-p's
On these young metaphors i=on the block where i get my cheese
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JOEL LAMONTE HAILEY, RICHARD HAILEY, CRAIG BROCKMAN, MICHAEL BELL
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, O/B/O DistroKid, Songtrust Ave, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.




Chip in Da Phone

Marinatin on the corner with a chip in his phone
You can tell that the hillside was his home
Mo' scratch than the rest of the pushers
Cause he got a chop suey in the bushes
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: EARL STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Da Bumble

I flipped a Lexi, speed up and catch me
Lexus of Concord, reached out and touched me
Some of you hoe fake ass niggas like Roz, be messy
I know some beautiful black intelligent women, they're sexy
E-40's back and blackened
I don't be barkin, nor even high cappin
You better watch me, I'm comin smebbin
Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven
Bet your persodian, 30-R-6-castodian
Special shout to Casual Del the Souls and opium
About the town, the Valley-Joe
Just like a democratic, I'm for' the po'
F*ck the bumble, you bitch it ain't no punk hoe
Pedestrian stumble sound like a gorilla
tryin to get up out of a trunk hoe
Continue strikin it, hope you likin it
They'll be makin nasties at the bus stop and trackin it
Every egg that I pull in bulges
When it comes to spittin I'm ferocious
Management in cabbages, Savage
Hangin out when all the sudden I'm eatin ham sandwiches
All day, everyday, 40 play, he say
She say, bieetch! that-a-way
Keep it goin though - don't stop
Shakin baking soda, forms a rock
36 steps on a triple beam scale
Burn the duct tape but keep all the ya-yo
Rip a peel, extra crisp, really really
Ate it like I'm a specialist
(Drisidrisomina?) is the illest zaggin
Thinkin I put cause like this
You know I'm (puzackin'?)
M the mornin, cookin bacon
From the ghetto in the bullet-proof apron
Here comes the laws, valium crushin through my balls
I rip my drawers runnin from the canine cocaine-sniffing dogs
Some niggaz hate me, some niggaz love me
Some niggaz shake my paw, some niggaz mug
I see ya tweakin, I see ya peekin
Y'all bootches with me, why you sleepin?
A motherf*cker ain't gotta be Flash Gordon
always runnin up the backstreets in a batch
That having a hoe protect the shit won't work
that batch just wants your scrizzach
Lettin em know, preferred zodiac sign Scorpio
See the breeze soldier, V-A-L-L-E-J-O
Never show witness to your
Never leave your crib with out your pepper, beeotch!
I'm tryin to get legal with it
Open up a shop cotton candy and licorice
Cash in stashes, that's a must
We leavin with a million and that's a plus
Don't get it twisted, don't try to find me
Might be in Switzerland, or Hawaii
1-2-3-40, wheels new shoes scrappin toe to toe
Crack black jack and keno, strike sideways hit Reno
Ball cappin, no smilin
Sittin lo somethin profilin, beeitch!
F*ck the bumble, you bitches it ain't no punk hoe
You clits it ain't no punk hoe

[Outro chit chat]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: SAM BOSTIC, MICHAEL MOSLEY, EARL T STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group




Sideways

[Intro: B-Legit]

Mobb shit bitch
I know you know
But check game doe

[Verse One: B-Legit, E-40]

I'm in the S-E 4-double-oh
Sitting real low, stick in the flo', oh
The hoe want me to come swoop
Take her for a ride in my blue Lex Luthor (Lex Luth-ah)
But the bitch ain't got no gas fetti (gas fetti)
So I burnt her like Fast Freddy (Fast Freddy)
Hit me on the first when your mail has come
And maybe we can go to the mall or somethin (to the mall or somethin)

Heavy ass shit for the mob -- for the mob
When I make a zillion I resign -- I resign
I'm realer than a hundred dollar bill with the line across
When Christmas come around ask Santa Claus
Santa do you know E-40?
Bet you that nigga say "That's my homey!"
We used to perv grind curb trip to my grandma
Kahlua with them brandy almost every day

Cardiac is cool, but I'm on gin (on gin)
Santa bought me, a new Mac-10 (yeah)

Yeah, Click shit makes a motherf*cker's night
Niggaz listen to it cuz it's light
Crooked twisted unlisted on the highways
We riding sideaways, beotch!

[Chorus: Mac Shon]

I'm riding sideways, this way thatta way
("Back up the Coupe and roll sideways")
I'm riding sideways, this way thatta way
("Made a left at the corner cuz it was hoes")
I'm riding sideways, this way thatta way
("I'm looking for a big seat")
I'm riding sideawats, this way thatta way
("Hoes see this type of shit and go reala...")

[Verse Two: B-Legit, E-40]

I'm riding city to city (city to city), me and Leviti
So get your toilet paper cuz it's gon' get shitty (gon' get shitty)
I hit the highway goin East (East)
Twenty-two ounces of yeast (yeast...)
I'm playin this game cuz a nigga my age be
I met her last night and today she paged me
Wanna know if B-Legit can kick it tonight (what else)
Only sixteen, way too tight

But age ain't nothin but a number -- number
Baby got her hair done by Shanda -- Shanda
Nine nine ten, eleven and up
If you bleed, you get f*cked -- f*cked
No not me, not fo'-oh -- not fo'-oh
I break the bootch down with a two by fo'
Eryf*ckinday is a holiday, celebration
When the bitch is actin crabby that means she's on her menestration
I be like f*ckin em like dissin it to the highest -- highest
Talkin more shit than Kalidous
A str-uh, strizuck out in my Cutlass Supreme on a Friday
(which way we ridin) Riding sideaways... beotch!

[Chorus: Mac Shon]

I'm riding sideways, this way thatta way
("Doing about a buck fifty")
I'm riding sideways, this way thatta way
("Danked out, and full of that Cisco")
I'm riding sideways, this way thatta way
("Pervin swervin runnin all into the curb and")
I'm riding sideways, this way thatta way
("Bout a gallon to the dome, then that's the hit")

[Verse Three: E-40, B-Legit]

See I'ma hogg nigga, Beverly Hillbilly
Neckbone, socks, tails, pork'n'beans and chili
Just like my nigga Celly, we likes to kick it silly
Regurgitate and kick a bootch move up out the telly
Cause they out there bad ain't satisfied
Hoes just wanna be pacified
But I can't do no justice cuz the justice ain't to be did
BEOTCH! You usin too much red

Now I've been known to break niggaz off (off)
Hard type or soft, line em up chalk em up as a loss
See me in the parking lot doing my thang (yeah)
Love to see my old school dance in the rain (kick it)
The po-po's came then they closed up shop (kick it)
Smashed through the Hood and we made that hot (yah)
See the shit don't stop (stop) motherf*ckers pop (pop)
Seven-deuce drop (drop) Coney air shocks (mmhmm)
Riding through the shit like Racer X
And if a motherf*cker flex break back and necks (back and necks)
Running red lights and the right-of-ways
(How we gonna get it doe?) We get it sideaways, beitch!!

[Chorus: Mac Shon]

I'm riding sideways, this way thatta way
("Late at night up and down saying hi...")
I'm riding sideways, this way thatta way
("Be trapped trunk, Stark Boulevard")
I'm riding sideways, this way thatta way
("Come here you little hard-ass boy!")
I'm riding sideways, this way thatta way
("Niggaz like to hear this type of shit when they crawl")
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BRANDT JONES, EARL T. STEVENS, GREGORY BUREN
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Spittin

Woke up in the AM, toasted out of my cranium
Gotta take a shit, took a dump in the Mediterranean
Flushed the toilet, hit the shower
Snatched a fit up out the clos'
Miles of a '96 broom handle
Hangin half-way out my drawers
You niggas better feel me I got patrons to serve
Nigga got to starts pay props will deserve
F*ck my trunk I'm smobbin ugly in my deep dirt
F*ck you on my way to see Miss Chiminey
'Cause since Chiminey is a good friend of me
She likes to go ah, downtown
She likes it when I, pound pound
Here's a whoppin' bitch
Call me uh-Bah uh-Barney Rubble stick the beast down, so duck
Had the pussy poppin' bubbles
Scratchin' the paint off up of the walls
Pickin' off in them drawers, rebel without a pause
She could feel a gnat sting, swimmin' in Niagara Falls
Now no matter extra meal, managin' the place
All up in the motherf*ckin' tall can face
Streets make you broke, Forty Water ain't no joke
Make way, say hey, check my display
Bump the shit til your tape busts (Bump the shit til ya tape busts)
And youse a bitch if you ain't got no clit
(And youse a bitch if you ain't got no clit)

40 took a forty to the f*ckin' dome
And now they got me spittin' on the microphone
40 took a forty to the f*ckin' dome
And now they got me spittin' on the microphone, beeitch!
Drunker than a motherf*cker spittin' that shit

High rank, nigga poor
Scratch scratch taller than Manute Bol
Cash rules everything around me
40 why they why they get the money
Oh tell me baby gon' be no catchin', bet ya catch before 40 7-11
Ah big Danz said a step man, can't win (uh)
1-Luv to my niggas in the YOU KNOW
Gettin' swoll, bulkin' up, drinkin' pruneau
Y'all stay the same, got some extra whoop I think I need a drink
The waiter got me f*ckin' like me right in here
Bitches sooner than I think
Vallejo PD's on crack man
They shot my nigga Tone Tucker in the back man
Prejudiced motherf*ckers!
What niggas need to do is f*ck a-lo a-lo key now
Squash the fuh-ah f*ckin' spot, ain't nothin' wrong? (Squash it)
Hang with tactical edged (staple?) highly easy
To be converted to Mack-1
Twice as righteous (righteous), make them po-po's like us
Drink with me, second base, and I'm gone for home
I drunk a 40 to the f*ckin' dome

40 took a forty to the f*ckin' dome
And now they got me spittin' on the microphone
40 took a forty to the f*ckin' dome
And now they got me spittin' on the microphone, beeitch!
Drunker than a motherf*cker spittin' that shit

I ain't no cupcake (I ain't no cupcake)
So don't call me hostess (hostess)
Nigga don't you know I'm all open to explosives (I'ma explode)
Let tha bed bugs bite, sleep light
Be ready for the tip-toein phantoms at night
When I open 'em for risk (when I open it for risk)
Smokin' somethin' for the hatest terminator instigator
(terminator instant trader)
Nigga just bought from Traders
Tyler lookin' for all some of that fit, ya gotta admit
Nigglet your life is set why you ungreatful motherf*ckas
You better get somewhere where they love you at
Your life is set why you ungrateful motherf*cka
I've been strugglin strivin so hard to make my shit obese (uh)
Pacin back and forth (uh)
Bear to grit my teeth, C-C-L-L-I-I-C-K, Northern California V uh VJ
I feed your ass, with my ambitiousness about the f*ckin' bumble
Lookin' ambitious as the motherf*ckin' bumble
Soundin' off car alarms
My shit ain't nothin' humble
Gotta say wassup (gotta say wassup) to some niggas on my team
Niggas like Rec-Street and Nicky motherf*ckin' Green
(motherf*ckin' Green)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: EARL T. STEVENS, MARVIN WHITEMON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Sprinkle Me

[Intro: E-40]

[burrrp, burp]
Yeah, focus pocus, skiggedy-skat
It ain't nuttin but me
That nigga E-40
Finna sprinkle some of you fools with some of this
This G-A-M-E man some of this game
Understand my sista
Finna sprinkle you fools with sprinkle sista
Understand this doe
It don't stop til the motherf*cking glock pop
[Don't stop] and f*ck a glock I'm f*ckin with a Sig Sauer
P226 Diana Ross cousin nina
Misdemeanor, that's what we do, understand it

[Verse One: E-40]

I be more hipper than a hippopotamus
Get off in your head like a neurologist
Pushin more weight than Atlas
Got a partner by the name of 2Pacalypse
The seven-oh-seven my roost go hella fall back to Floyd Terrace
I pull a forty out of my ballcap
and den I flush it down my esopha-garus
The group that I'm with The Click
Shigge-D-Shot, Legit
Family orientated
Game related, it's the shit
Killing motherf*ckers off crucial
Sittin em down mutual
Running through these lyrics as if I was fibered
like Metamucil

Timah timah.... forty widah.. forty wide
Sprinkle me main, sprinkle me main, sprinkle me main, sprinkle me main
Big timah timah, big timah.... forty widah-ahh
Sprinkle me main, sprinkle me main, sprinkle me main
Kick that shit Suga

[Verse Two: Suga T]

Here comes the top notch, ooh ooh ooh here I be
Clicked out me Suga T from the V
I'm quick to smob (quick to smob), always down for the job
Ya gotta strut that's a gang of shot (gang of shot)
Ooh ooh ooh I'm a fool
Slangin more mail as I slides through your hood
Straight shakin all, these bustas and busterettes
Tryin to claim fame off my Chavez rep (Chavez rep)
Ohh, why oh why must I be so tight? (Why oh why)
Most folks tell me, Suga you ain't right (Why oh why Suga you ain't right)
It makes me wanna scream while I make ya holler
Pullin a gang of clout like that al-mighty dollar

[Chorus: E-40, Suga T]

Suga Suga (ahh yeah that's me) Suga Suga
That's my sista (you know my name!)
Sprinkle me girl, sprinkle me girl (ahaha)
Sprinkle me girl, sprinkle me girl
Suga Suga (that's what they call me)
Dat's my sista (I ain't right!)
Sprinkle me girl, sprinkle me girl, sprinkle me girl, sprinkle me girl

[Verse Three: E-40, Suga T]

(Check the flotation!)
Nigga PHin on a playa makin mega
Tryin to knock the hustle just because we way too major
(E they try to test your testicles, you know that shit ain't cool)
Suga don't make me have to come up out the sound booth
and act a f*ckin fool
(All these old hoe-cake ass niggaz, they make me so damn sick)
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM ON A TRICK
Playa play her for false and get rubbed off ya don't want malse
F*ck around and get evaporated

[Chorus: E-40]

Cause I'ma timah timah.... timah timah
Forty widah... forty wide
Sprinkle me main, sprinkle me main, sprinkle me main, sprinkle me main
Big timah timah... big timah
Forty widah... forty wide
Sprinkle me main, sprinkle me main, sprinkle me main
That's what we do, beatch!

Understand this shit, understand it
What's happenin Suga, you in this bitch with me?
(haha thought you heard)
Yeah that's what we do for the motherf*ckin... nine-five
(ha for the nine-five, yeah)
Sick Wid It Records, Jive all the time
(understandin the system main)
It's Mob City, V-Town, it's Mob City
It's Mob City V-Town niggaz
(mobbin through ya hood)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: SAM BOSTIC, MICHAEL MOSLEY, EARL T STEVENS, TANINA STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group




Outta Bounds

[keys jangle]
Mmmmhmmm this bitch act like she [dog starts barking] gonna do something
I about to get me some of this Cuerve man
Finna go up to this bitch man got my motherf*ckin helmet man
I'm finna get me some pussy! I'm gonna get some pussy!
[car door slams] Yessuh!
[tires peel out]
[gun shots ring out]

[car horn goes off]
[tires peel out]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: EARL STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Dusted n Disgusted

[Verse One: E-40]

I'm really not all that sure
bout when things is finna mature
So let me find me a nigga with a grip
and hit his ass quick with one of them whoops
(What's the definition of a lick?)
Taking a niggaz shit
(Hey put that on sumthin)
I put that on The Click, The Click
Back to f*ckin work one of the homies jus got dusted
Time to do some dirt, uhh, I never trusted
them bustas shot him in the shirt, dead on arrival
Now the town is funky, it's called survival
What y'all wanna do? They got us scuffled
(bullet high, get in your eye) if this was a fifth well I be drunk
I'm heated, them niggaz cheated, played me false
We had em eatin, shit 'posed to been squashed
I noticed one killa on the double dribble and set him up y'all
She likes the Monie in the Middle, play tetherball
Thick ass bitch, high yellow city-slicker
Scarecrow creepin Southern bitches, aka Posie Pussyfictious

[Verse Two: Spice-1]

Nigga been holdin guts, but shit on hisself and a funky bill
Pullin out bills, frontin on material shit
that's when I get to killin shit (killin shit)
And settin 'im up and havin 'im catchin a couple of slugs
Sl-uh sl-uh slugs, trynta f*ck with savage thug
Pistol pop in they ass, see niggaz be gettin this twisted
It's that bitch that killed ya
Took all your money peeled ya
Seven niggaz bust in the room with AK's
while a nigga be puttin on his jimmy
All of a sudden they shoot up your Vuitton
before you can hit the broccoli
See money-a-made that nigga, that nigga didn't make that money
Left them niggaz jacked up, and the bitch she macked him
He's a busta, punk ass nigga, y'all know the streets
That's why that nigga naked layin dead in between some bloody sheets
It's just a part of the game he didn't feel
Bitches will kill, f*ck a nigga, out his last d-uh dollar bill
You don't know that hoe main that bitch can't be trusted
Dusted and di-motherf*ckin-sgusted

[Chorus: E-40]

Some cold hearted shit
Back to f*ckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
Whacha'll wanna do, whacha'll wanna do
Cold hearted bitches
Back to f*ckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
Whacha'll wanna do, I never trusted them bustas
Some cold hearted shit
Back to f*ckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
I never trusted them bustas
And it's them cold hearted bitched
Back to f*ckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
Dusted and disgusted

[Verse Three: E-40, 2Pac]

Let's let of some two or threes on the other side of t-uh-town
Draw the attention on the other s-uh-side of town (other side of town)
And wait for the po-po shift to change, ghetto shootin range
Revenge on the r-uh-rebound, war games
Droughts, out, shhh lost clientele but I will prevail
by sellin the broccoli dank instead of the crack cocaine
try not to steal narcotics
When these punk MC's and bitches be the reason why
the smoke be comin up out the chow, with my nigga Pac

Dear God, can you forgive me? My future's lookin sick
I'm in my rag hittin switches I'm suspicious of these bitches
I keep on, calllin, but ain't nobody pickin up
I think she's stallin, this evil bitch is tryin ta set me up
Came all alone if it's on then it's on
Where's my motherf*ckin chrome, only jealous niggaz roam
It's a war zone (war zone) but I'm a man so with gun in hand
I'm on my way to see this hoe you know the f*ckin plan
Can't understand, but the things ain't the same
You could die over these bitches if you slippin in the game
Niggaz gang bang, but bitches gang bang too
Give up that good thang, and put that pistol to your brain
If you was smart figure, don't have no love in your heart nigga
Any complications pull the trigger, dusted and disgusted
Bitches can't be trusted, you know the rules
They underhanded, she planned it, you f*ckin fool

(These hoes out here tryin to hold a nigga's heart
So a nigga get his money f*cked with
Almost in-laws)
Hey be proud of it when you turn these bitches upside down
What's gonna happen
(Uhh, three and a half dollars or probably fo' if
a bitch ridin)
(Yeah main, them hoes talented
They be f*ckin with mo' MC's at Jack the Rapper)
(Aight f*ck it, what you say Mall?
Ay, f*ck them sheisty ass bootches, nigga)

[Verse Four: Mac Mall, Spice-1, E-40]

The California lifestyle that I live
Where the bitches is crooked and niggaz jus don't give
A flyin f*ck, so I stay stuck, smokin on the tay-low
Bay Area playa, tryin ta have shit major
And a bitch won't save ya
so I ain't playin Captain Save a Hoe
I mob up in ya like a pro and then I'm gone
I'm like Sylvester Stallone, everyday is like a Cliffhanger
Action packed, I let the mini-mac smack that ass

Them hoes jacked that ass
Nigga woulda got smokin on that hash
Can't have my cash, better go and take your nigga stash
Cuz he's a busta, niggaz with clusters
Slippin in shit, betta jack that nigga 'fore I jack his ass bitch
Never was no love for the mark-ass, the lo pink (the lo pink)
You love them Bootsy bitches, can't let them pussy bitches

gank that ass, betta hide your cash and check her fast
Pump your brakes nigga, slow your roll don't go too fast
Cause bulletproof ain't doin no good no mo' no mo' no mo' no mo'
now, niggaz comin up dead with they brains blew out on the f*ckin floor
damn, hollow points to flesh tears through the teflon vest
Now r-uh-rest
Pull a plug on a flatline over those, one nigga less
One nigga less, from coast to coast, to the East to the West
Crushin the flesh, dem bitches played a game of death
Look over your shoulder watch your back don't even trust it
I'm tryin to told ya end up dusted

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: SAM BOSTIC, ROBERT LEE JR GREEN, MICHAEL MOSLEY, J. ROCKER, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR, EARL T STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




1-Luv

[phone rings]
This is the operator. I have a collect call from
"Hey this yo' potnah main!"
who is an inmate in a California State prison
To deny charges, hang up now
To accept charges, press five now

Mmmmm..... welllll
One love (one love)
ohhhhh (one love)
The L, the L, the L, the L
One love (one love)
welll (there's only one love)
The O, the O, the O, the O
One love (one love)
ohhhhh (one love)
and the V, the V, the V, the V
One love (one love)
welll (there's only one love)
it's the E, the E, the E, the E

[Verse One:]

Member that game Fat Bank Take Skinny Bank?
Well now we play Skinny Bank Take Fat Bank
That's because it ain't no work bein offered main
They act like they ain't even thinkin bout us main
I promise I swear the po-po threw my homey in the slammer
Did him bad, wish I had my candid camera, made me mad
Vanilla be swarmin like bees surveillance binoculars hidden in trees
Reliable sources copying keys, oh p-uh-please
One for the life, and two for death
Three damn strikes no chances left
Let me tell ya lil bout me
E-40 and the C-L-I-C we used to have to use
sheets for curtains, socks for washtowels
I was happy as hell when my cousin gave me his hand-me-downs
This ain't no happy Shirley Temple talleistic crap
This here is serious more Realistic than Radio Shack
Observe as I strike a nerve, reach out and touch my kind
Open up your photo album man, and I bet you find
Folks that passed away, potnahs that been blasted away
I miss you steal some liquor main, who got some tissue

[Chorus: Leviti and E-40]

One love (one love)
One love
ohhhh (one love)
One love (one love) well well
One love
well wellll (there's only one love)
One love (one love)
One love
ohhhh (one love)
One love (one love) well well
One love
well wellll (there's only one love)

[Verse Two:]

Erybody wanna shoot em up bang bang
Way I was raised we had to knuckle up and throw them thangs
We got em up and you know I had to check em swell
Cuz if I ran home and didn't fight back my mom'd beat that tail
Just received word from my folks upstate
They said uh, they tryin ta, they tryin ta take away our weights
And uh, no more beef and pork just muslim books and fish fork
and laps around the yard with my Walkman bumpin this
Now I'm bouts ta get married, is it clever
Thought it was, till I got the Dear John letter
Been down for ten bucks and got a eight year stay
And I just found out she had her baby yesterday
Ain't nobody been to see me yet, but I ain't gonna worry
Man ya out there ballin main can you drop a twenty up in my commisary
Uhh, my family thinks that I'm a thug homie
When you see my momma man give her a hug for me
And tell her

[Chorus]

[Verse Three:]

Huh, thinkin back, you gotta watch your back and play it well
Enjoyed myself when I was out there tryin ta get in that mail
We used to kick it at the waterfront the whole Vallejo
Watchin the pervin contestses between E-40 and Del
That's what we did up under the bridge fools posted up
Choppin game conversatin gettin toast up
Leanin against my seamless convertible tops and boosted cleaners
Them Click boys mobbin deep in cuts, actin meanest
The good times, they gone, here in the can is my new phone
Guess in order to do some right I had to do some wrong
Picked up a package yesterday and I was HAPPY
It was a box and full of goodies from my PAPPY
Tripped me out ain't seen or heard from Poppa Duke in years
Sent me a picture and some fetti dang they sheadin tears
See first you born then you live then you die
One day soon I'll get another try, one love

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Han Joon Kim
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Smoke n Drank

spit that shit)
Durrin a playa like Ma Dukes
I think I recall when I got my first tooth
I was a teeny little ol teether perv on flea little bitches
Some like a little further on down the line
started f*ckin with moonshine, all kind of wines
Stood in front of the liquor house so I can get mine, from old timers
Buy me a drank man I know it's against the law my name's liquor sport
What you need my little catarada a packet of kool-aid and some throw up
What else? A thing of B's and a short naked Night Train
Whatchu gonna give me? A crumpled up foodstamp that I won in a dice game
Preciate it playa, I'm up out of this bitch bout to go hook up
with my side hill now them shits relatives simple ones kinfolks
Good folks, y'know, y'know
Twisted, slogan, me and my fools be out there back pervin
To' back on your face and started to roll over

*chorus*
Let's perv, throw up, and drank again
Let's get high, loaded, and smoke again
(repeat 2X)

Just wakin up from my hang-over
Still high, like I swallowed an ounce of
hell yeah I don't wanna ever be sober
Like bein toishin, wake up in the same position, open up the safe
Peep the stash, lookin mighty healthy, plenty of cash
Grabbed my partner from up out the charger
And then made a dash called up the folks today is the day
for my nigga's birthday twelve o'clock come through gon get beat
By who? By them hog mark niggaz in the cleats
We's deep, no remorse no feelings retardos no sorrow
Drink it til your motherf*ckin insides turn holes to cross and wallow
Back to back, struck and strikin, that's your job (that's your job nigga)
To make you lift this tick, f*ckit nigga blow a bottle

*chorus*

Room spinnin, dead
Got the garbage can next to the bed
Now I was tweakin off that old crazy ass commercial on BET Jackie Stallone
What made it so bad is I don't even know how I got home
Niggaz ain't feel me y'know f*ck this sargeant general
when they peoples be lookin like that indo
Dicked a, barren, purple, fish sto'
Smob with me I'm tryin to told ya like you get to perkin
Ride to me I'll teach you some of this game that I be twerkin
Pull this motherf*cker over main, you probably gotta go piss again
Don't even sweat it though just be on the lookout for so-and-so
now whatchu be callin them po-po's? Tedelknows
Penelopes, grill up out of this bitch man
I got ones, let's go get some Hen main

*chorus*
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: EARL STEVENS, KEVIN Q. GARDNER, LOUIS KING
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Dey Aint No

Zapp IV beneath the ashtray, woofers in the back
Water in the duals make loud glass pack
Gold tippytoes without a liquor crown
Bought a set of vogues and left the, stickers on
Seven grand worth a buck for the trunks
Paid cash, all ones
Some old bitch came up to me and said, "What's the latest bro?"
I said, "I'm tryin to have more chips than Las Vegas hoe"
She said, "Can I roll with you? I get the dicks hard"
I said, "You can work the strips and on my boulevard"
"How much would I make?" I said, "Mega
Just bring me back my scrill scratch paper"
Heart heart money money street street hustle
Sex, drugs, smuggle, bubble
Horns, dialin, speakers, subbin
Sound just like the inside of a club-bin
How many times could a Conrad come so buttery?
Always on to' back have people lovin me
Alcoholic drunk that ain't no gimmick B
I'm always in and out the Betty Ford clinic see
Drunk paraphenalia cream butterscotch
Illegal like a garbage of hover rocks
Workin off my pager you know the ropes I'm makin that
cabbage cornbread like Oprah
Diamond satch-uels from ja-f*ckin-hoe
Pose just like a pimp smokin a honey blunt
In a Major Way I tried to told ya
Niggaz have my shit f*cked back in the days but now they know a
Sold a bunch of units underground
They was bumpin Save a Hoe in every town
Rumor has it that I died I got smoked main
But I'm alive, they was talkin about somebody else main

[chorus]
We say dem niggaz P.H.
But dey really ain't knowin, dey ain't no
Me rather stack more papes
And steady get to bubblin, yeah fo' sho'

Revenues, on my mind
I can't hold back, now's the time
Bust a dope addict crack fiend in the jaw
Fool had his spook on tried to steal my car
Da Bay, where hoes be janky, sheist
And niggaz, do so much dirt we got lice
Prices, go up and down like a teeter-totter
Filthy shit, ring around the collar
Just the other day I heard a Bootsy nigga shout
"Man that nigga don't be doin all that damn shit he talk about"
Fools think they know me think they got me figured out
But nigga... nigga?!!
I plays this shit for bread and meat
So nigga if you feel froggish leap
I don't smoke dog food sherm loop or snow
But I leave a trail of beadies everywhere I go
So tell a friend like Alpha Beta
I'm gonna get it like T.C. the money maker, I know you're with it
Mayday mayday, unexplained object comin your way
Breaker breaker it's E-40 bitches call me the ahh
ballin ass, tight clean talkin Big Willer
Money hungry, penny pinchin stingy nigga
On the sc-rilla, always on the go-getter
Scoop a baitch and we can split her

[chorus]

Me have no time for de bullshiters [x4]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




Fed

"There is something going on down here..." "In Vallejo."
"FedEx!"
[E-40] "In Vallejo, California" "In Vallejo."
[E-40] "In Vallejo, California"

[Chorus: Suga T]

He said he's just a, timah name, rang-in
Major factor, Fed Ex
High-powered lawyers, and a
young nigga havin his wayyyy!

[Verse One: E-40]

? and cry with his motherf*cking nose in the corner
Broke up out of that old punk shit and said,
"Momma I'ma do what the f*ck I wanna!"
Hit the streets and make a wheelbarrow full of bread if I end up dead
then press delete -- I'm tired of eating powdered meat
Within a nigga timah to get to the grind, so that boy scored a quarter key
Two hundred and fifty-two electronic milligrams
We'll sell it like a coke candy organization
and I'm plugged with it, bail off into that old high-powered shit
These are the type of niggaz that'll let a nigga know
when the drought about to hit, my ?peach and jelly?
Get a 40 and mask it, post it on God
Because me got me scratch paper buried in the backyard
Me and my Click roll thick for real and be thinkin of funk like you a moth
Problems nigga? Let that go or get your head tooken off
Catch you out of bounds on the wrong f*ckin s-oil
Wrap that ass up like aluminim f-oil
I'm Fed Ex, heavy duty nigga, pushin weight (pushin weight)
From sardines and Spam to Teriyaki steak; motherf*cker ain't but
plus sixteen, f*ckin around with the skillet, makin a killin
Runnin through three or four units a week on the over over
Puttin the Whammy on em (Whammy on em)
Cake up and baking soda, ALL THAT old shit
(What's yo' occupation?) Motherf*cker I'm a timah

[Chorus: Suga T]

Timah name, rang-in
Major factor, Fed Ex
High-powered lawyers, and a
young nigga havin his wayyyy!
Let em know, let em know main
Let em know, let em know, let em know-ow
Let em know, let em know main
Let em know, let em know, let em know-ow

[Verse Two: E-40]

Bitch I thought ya knew, bitch I thought ya knew -- huh, now check it
I'm to the point where I don't touch it no mo'
You probably got lieutenants and killers all on the squadron
with po-po's on payroll, huh
Lavish vehicles, they only make life fo'-up
Front row seats at the fights, takin long expensive flights, huh
Q's, P's, birth certificates and fake ID's
Like to drink liquor, with beadies and leaves
The motherf*ckin fuzz wanna stop us
Found our fingerprints on some choppers
Listenin to the scanner, I hear the Penelope's say
"Man uhh, them nigger boys, I can't stand uhh"
Young hoodlums sellin hawk, cloggin up the block
Inna come-a new 6-double-zero drop
We party in matches V.I.P.'s nigga f*ck a fly
Invite celebrities like E-40 and J.R. Ridah, timah

"I'm so serious!"
"I'm so serious brotha!"
"I'm so serious brotha!"
"I got n...."

[Chorus: Suga T]

He said he's just a, timah name, rang-in
Major factor, Fed Ex
High-powered lawyers, and a
young nigga havin his wayyyy!
Let em know, let em know main
Let em know, let em know, let em know-ow
Let em know, let em know main
Let em know, let em know, let em know-ow

[cell phone rings]
"Hall-oh??" "Wassup fool!"
"Whas happenin who dis?" "Nigga it's yo' boy!"
"My bo-...?"
"WHASSUP YOU TIMAH WHEN YO' ASS GOIN TOWN?"

"On a mission about my mail, to the hillside of Vallejo" [x7]

[Verse Three: E-40]

You niggaz got me f*cked, F*CKED UP
Me yanked myself up out the game, hold up, motherf*cker
I got bills to pay, nigga if you don't get out my way
I'm gonna peels your toupee, I'm in it to stay and I'm strapped in the Bay
but I never woulda thought that I would feel like
that I can invest my money in a franchise
Get em up out the hood before my homies lose they lizzives
Buy a f*ckin record company and watch my mail rise

Ha ha, yeah, timah
Big Timah, a motherf*cker have his br-ead, may-an
Fed Ex to the highest degree, tax free
Ballin out of motherf*ckin control
A major factor playin a white man's game man
Sneak in and sneak out
Campaign champagne and clam thang
Game can be sold and told at the same time
And this shit here is designed to sprinkle yo' mind
High-powered ass shit man for my high-powered ass Clickalation
Get it while it's good before it's to graduation
Understand me?

[Chorus: Suga T]

He said he's just a, timah name, rang-in
Major factor, Fed Ex
High-powered lawyers, and a
young nigga havin his wayyyy!
Let em know, let em know main
Let em know, let em know, let em know-ow
Let em know, let em know main
Let em know, let em know, let em know-ow

Timah name, rang-in
Major factor, Fed Ex
High-powered lawyers, and a
young nigga havin his wayyyy!
Let em know, let em know main
Let em know, let em know, let em know-ow
Let em know, let em know main
Let em know, let em know, let em know-ow
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: E. STEVENS, G. BUREN, R. MULLER
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




H.i. Double L.

[E-40]
Hey ah, which way should I steer ah
The beat keeps knockin down my rear view mirror
Pervin like a mothaf*cka swervin
Hope I don't scrub in my '95 Suburban
To go throughout the community squattin on gold tippy toes
Peep, breathin on Indian cigarette-Ganish Bidi posin niggas tweak
Quick fast and a hurry don't worry 40 vision blurry
Shorty hit the freeways climbin like that nigga Joe Torre
[Celly Cel]
What do you know it's siggity Cel
That funky niggero that funky nigga doe
Kickin in doors you beta grab ya hoe
I see ya cruisin in the late night
creepin wit my nigga B-Legit and 40 water, ah shit
[40]
We're here-we're there-we're everywhere
Highly intox-icated but we don't care
[B-Legit]
I'm from the H.I.L.L. the place where my niggas bell
A mack muthaf*ckin 12 will send your ass straight to hell
[40]
A tick a tock, the shit da spot
They say them crazy muthaf*ckas pull out a chop
[B]
I watch them muthaf*ckas run
I do this shit for fun
You niggas know you can't get none
[40]
Biatch

[Chorus]
I'm from the V.A.L.L.E.J.O
H.I.L.L side doe
Spittin straight game is all a nigga know and ahh
and they be like... (there they go,off to the liquor store)
[B]
I tell a bitch what the f*ck you mean where I've been
And so what I smells like pussy and gin
I had money to make
Bitches to break and if the shit was out of line I had lives to take
I told you from the gate that I'm a mobster
Sippin DP eatin lobster
Don't get it confused you won't get abused
As long as you makin' me them revenues
[Cel]
That miggity mack, that diggity dang and that niggity nut
Jump in the back of my cut with a tramp slut and hit the gut
Ain't got no love for 'em all I love to do is dick 'em
Pass 'em to the extra mannish nigga 40 water
[40]
If I was popeye with a ?
You could kiss my big black royal
I'm not funkin' over Oliveoil
Last night I had a superbad in my room
She sucked me till my dick shriveled up like a prun
[Cel]
Well pass the Hussy to the left hand side
So I can bend her over hit it from the back and let her ride
You know it's Sick Wid It
Hog gotta put the shake down
Shot her to the left nigga hit me with the break down

[Chorus]
[40]
Beefeater, Tanqueray, Safire, Bombay
? the punch bowl full of hurricane
That'll last a nigga dang near all day
Smokin' HERB we gets perved cop a squat
Let's hang out at the old Cola spot
[B]
Nigga I'm a Louie smokes damn near Q
So can I get a Twomp on my pager here
You been blowin' me up
I know you know the code
31 double 07 dash 9 eleven
[40]
High steppin'
Ya blankin off the blanks
Cuz I'm a 揜ock staræ"§ate goin dove rock
Nigga let me use your f*ckin car
All the way to sunday,monday,tuesday,wednesday,thursday,friday,saturday
Threw up money tore up ass botch you call the po po on me
Told 'em I was sideways doin about a buck 50 in Salonto County
Sheriffs pull my ass over, and book me caught me with a gun
And a bunch of Alezah bottles and they was askin me where I'm from
And I said bitch

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BRADT JONES, EARL STEVENS, MARCELES MCCARVER, MARVIN WHITEMON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Bootsee

Bootsee let me define it you can rewind it after I finish spittin'
Now I want you to tell me if you know somebody in yo town that fit the description
A sucka, a ignorant mothaf*cka
One of them show boatin' high sidin' want to get some attention type nagas
Just as flashy but bitches be askin me
If they can borrow a couple of bucks until tuesday
Pleases that man go say no man be tryin to play Captain Save A Hoe
Gettin marked by all them sneaky caniving ass set up hoes
You see bootsee is that ol' nigga with that ol' gold around his neck
Gold around his muthaf*ckin house, gold around his muthaf*ckin pet
Got everybody in the town thinkin' he sittin' nice on at least 20 ki's
But bootsee ain't movin nothin but half thangs
Straight f*ckin with some of y'all niggas domes
Braggin and boastin, How can I make this shit look clean
Y'all really want to know who the man behind the fat sack well lookie here
Sho nuf ain't bootsee boss and thats for sure
Cuz bootsee be frontin himself off y'all niggas just don't know
The ones you least expect you know them square ass niggas in your city
They be the ones who have a grip , they be the ones who be sittin pretty
Instead of tryin to be super to start a f*ckin track man
What a nigga really need to do is sit back and straight stack man
Cuz I've been on this Earth for 3 and some odd months man
Trippin off how these niggas out here be straight transforming
Laughing and smiling, loving and hugging a brother grinning
Turn around and talk behind your back the next minute
Bitch we call him bootsee

Chorus
Let me define it you can rewind it after I finish spittin
But what about bootsee
It be them bootsee muthaf*ckas in your town that's always game
It be them bootsee muthaf*ckas in your town that's always game
bootsee is that busta with in no gizame,
with in no gizame, with in no gizame

You's a loud talkin runnin off the mouth deeck
Wishy washy be puttin yourself on front street
Sloppy grindin, failizing, bitch buying pussy licka
That's what hella heads be sayin about that bootsee nigga
And ah
In case some of y'all ain't knowin this
Do to do almost anything to be noticed
Like ah
Pull out his whole bank account and dang near everything he owns
And ah
Tell everybody in the hood that he got a chip in his phone
And how the f*ck you gone be about you scratch when you gossip like a
batch
And all them fools know where your stash be at
That ain't no sharp shit
Nigga that's that hoe shit
Potna just keep on doin what you do and watch your perv get peeled
Ridin around here loose stickin out dumb like a soar thumb
Nigga tell the truth
Don't have a gun but I need one
You want to come up quick in this old shit so you can get it
But how the f*ck you gone make your revees givin out credit
To tweakers, droamers, drifters, leftovers, geekers, zombies
Folks that steal from they mommies
When I was doin my thang I had strategy main
Sellin' that “white girl” you should have seen me main
You would have been proud of yo nigga cuz I was briliant wid it
I snuck in and snuck out without slippin in it
Get what you need out the game and sit your ass down
Invest your money in some thangs and start clockin' pal

Chorus
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: EARL STEVENS, MARVIN WHITEMON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Its All Bad

[E-40 and son talking]

[E-40]
Why was I born in these trifling ass times?
Why is it mandatory that I carry knives?
Don't be to civil cuz even white folks get jacked to
Doctors, high class lawyers and even Japs too
You ask me why I speak the real the way I feel
How come we call bitches hoes and you call us nigeros?
They want to do me like they did Stacks
What is this young black man doing with all that scratch? huh
I see some timahs on the yayo track readin they mail
Talking bout "I got white girl for sale"
But they ain't talking to me cuz I'm an oldie and they knows that
I used to be just like them I tell them "y'all get that scratch"
Magazine was never nothing like Bel Air
High speed shot outs and shit but I loved it there
40 where you've been playa, it's been a while?
Marinatin' accumulating paper pal
Y'all kind of doin it huh, you still grindin?
Hell yeah, you know them tapes you keep rewinding
Money ain't changed me, money changed the way people think about me
When I was broke all I had was my family
You know what kills me doe them f*ckin' numskulls
I hate when blacks be clowin blacks on all these talk shows
It's bad enough we shootin up each other tradgically
Two days ago they found some brother smothered badly
Nobody's to be trusted in this day and age
To much jealousy and envy on the wrong page
And f*ck the po po because that 39% tax I pay
Don't get me nathan but a choke hold and some pepper spray

[Chorus]

Our father who art in heaven
How it be thy name thy kingdom come
That's the prayer that I say so spread the word
And if you feeling down and out read proverbs
You know that I've been tweakin off something strange
Startin to see a lot of womens at the shootin range
Domestic violence but here's an old ghetto myth
My potnas auntie scold her boyfriend with some hot grits
I'm from the G-E double T-T to the oh no
Where only few dare to go
[e-40 Jr.]
I spits game like a soldier
tonk since I told you this
Rap kingpin giant, six year old vocalist
You don't want to see me
Do it like I do that
All up in your tall-can face I tell you get more scrizatch
Y'alll need to get up on it
The game is way to deep
I'm not your average hustler
I be creepin while you sleep
Game, Straight game
Get up on it , Straight game

[Chorus]
It's all Bad
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ARTHUR ROSS, DEREK BARBOSA, DEREK K BARBOSA, LEON WARE, ROBERT STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC




Outro

(Instrumental)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




Back to: E-40


In a Major Way is the second studio album by American rapper E-40. It was released on March 14, 1995, by Sick Wid It Records and Jive Records. Production was handled by Studio Ton, Mike Mosley, Sam Bostic, Funk Daddy, Kevin Gardner, Redwine, and E-40 himself, who also served as executive producer. It features guest appearances from Levitti, 2Pac, Celly Cel, Mac Mall, Mac Shawn and Spice 1, as well as fellow The Click groupmates B-Legit and Suga-T, and his son Droop-E.

The album peaked at number 13 on the Billboard 200 and number 2 on the Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums in the United States. It was certified Platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America on June 3, 2002 for selling 1,000,000 copies in the US alone.
Performed By: E-40
Genre(s): Hip hop
Producer(s): E-40, Funk Daddy, Kevin Gardner, Mike Mosley, Redwine, Sam Bostic, Studio Ton
Released: March 14th, 1995
Year: 1995

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