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E-40 - My Ghetto Report Card Album Lyrics

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My Ghetto Report Card Album
by  E-40


E-40 - My Ghetto Report Card Lyrics



  1. Yay Area
  2. Tell Me When To Go
  3. Muscle Cars
  4. Go Hard Or Go Home
  5. Gouda
  6. Sick Wid It II
  7. JB Stomp Down (Skit)
  8. They Might Be Taping
  9. Do Ya Head Like This
  10. Block Boi
  11. White Gurl
  12. GetTheFuckOn.com Pt. 1 (Skit)
  13. U and Dat
  14. Im Da Man
  15. Yee
  16. GetTheFuckOn.com Pt. 2 (Skit)
  17. Just Fuckin
  18. Gimme Head
  19. She Say She Loves Me
  20. Happy To Be Here


Yay Area

[Verse 1]
Heavyweight, a vet not an amateur (What else?)
Looted up, I pushed pies like Marie Calendar (What you gonna do?)
Shoot it up if I must, take over shop
Get out the car and walk, sneak up on partner and do a dome-shot
Ka-pow, ka-pow, ka-pow, ka-pow, oooh
Then I blend into the crowd
Ooh-ahh, Ooh-ahh, Ooh-ahh, Ooh-ahh,Ooh-ahh, Ooh-ahh,Ooh-ahh, Ooh-ahh, ka-ka-ka-ka
... Hang with a bunch of hotheads, super hyphy and wild
Tell your batch to stop asking about a player
Inquirin' about a player, can't f*ck her right now, later
I'm busy getting my paper and riding around in my scraper
Interacting, networking and campaigning like Arnold Schwarzenegger
Like McCormick's, I'm seasoned, I run my region (You run your region)
Y'all think I'm starving, hell naw nigga, I'm eating (We eating)
They barking like Dino, lying and cheating
Keep jacking my lingo, one of these rappers gone end up leaking

[Hook x4]
Yay Area!!
Like that, tell the people that 40 Water is back

[Verse 2]
We be to rap, what key be to lock (Key be to lock)
Cut a quarter or two and bend the block (Bend the block)
The West ain't been the same without Pac
So I, guess it's up to E-40 and Rick Rock, oooh
... Stunting... you hear 40 new shit, he on there coming
You hear 40 new shit, he on there dumping
Be all the women talk about, that nigga something, oooh (Where you born at?)
Born and raised in the Yay (Uh huh)
Got some folks in Lumpockets, Skeleton Bay
... Kilo grams I had to measure, finger on my heckler
Having more paper... than a paper shredder, oooh
Tycoon till I fall (Till I fall)... I don't sound like none of y'all (none of y'all)
You getting independent scratch (Uh huh), just remember the niggas that taught you that

[Hook x4]
Yay Area!!
Like that, tell the people that 40 Water is back

[Verse 3]
Oooh, (Who you loyal to?) Loyal to my soil
Never leave the pad without my blessing oil (Uh huh)
'cause I surround myself with felons (What they do?)
Pop inner-tubes and bust melons, oooh
... Hustlers... On the look-out for the racket-busters, on the look-out for the fools
The racket-busters mean them people, them folks, them undercovers
Never tell a batch what you up to (What she might do?)
'cause one day she might tell on you (And what else?)
And you'll be sitting in the can (While she what?)
While she f*cking on your friends (Uh huh)
Spending all your yaper (What else pimp?)
Riding round in your scraper (What she giving?)
Giving brains (Uh huh), to all the hood homies run the choo-choo train

[Hook x4]
Yay Area!!
Like that, tell the people that 40 Water is back
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: EARL STEVENS, EARL T STEVENS, ISHMAEL R. BUTLER, MARY ANN VIEIRA, RICARDO THOMAS, THOMAS JACKSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC



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Tell Me When To Go

[E-40:]
Remix!
Ay Man, Ay Its My Popular Demand Pimp
I Need A Fix Man
They Demandin A Remix Man
(A Remix Pimp)
Its Confirmed Like A Don King Perm
Ya Got Ya Boi E-40
Ya Got Kanye West
[Ice Cube:] Its Ice Cube Nigga!

[Chorus:]
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Gooo
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb

Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Gooo
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb

[E-40:]
Chris Burbi To Carlos Rossi
Got Me Feelin Like The Man Of Steel
Extreme Hyphy Energy Drink
Spinning Steering Wheel
Mardi Gras Beads Around My Neck
Invisible Sets, Pull-Outs
Diamonds In My Mouth
Rally Stripes, Muscle Cars
Vans And Campers
My Dude Got Handlebars
Get Out Yo Cameras
Went To Dark-Down Bring Out The Crates
We On The Soil Ice Skatin
Doin Figure 8's
The King Of Slang
They Call Me E-Bonics
I Get Stupid And Dumb
Like Jasox And Mantronics
(Dumb Dumb Dumb Dumb)
Hear Me Out
The First Muthaf*cka To Even Speak About A Drought
40 A Foo I Heard He Growin Out His Hair
Swear? Yea He Takin It There
Uuuhhh
This Party Music
Get Used To It
The Hyphy Movement

[Chorus:]
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Gooo
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb

Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Gooo
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb

You Know We Got Kanye West On The Remix

[Kanye West:]
Ay
Ay
Ay Pimp, Its Yay Pimp
40 Told Me To F*ck Wit Him In The Bay Pimp
So Imma, Ride Down Wit My Doors Open Yea
Thats The Way To Get The Hoes Open
High Heel Stilletos Wit The Toes Open Yea
And Any Haters Get They Nose Broken
Now Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me Where Da Hoes
You Told Me It Was Cold
Now You Act Like You Dont Noe
Like
Umm
Umm
Imma Hit The Liquor Sto
Imma B On The Low
I Mite Have My Hoody On
If You Call Out My Name Then You Noe They Gon Go
(Dumb)
Ya F*ckin Up My Mode Mayne
I Told You Only Call Me By My Code Name
They Already Recognize Me From My Gold Chain
The Same One I Gave Keeysha Coles Mayne
Now Go Dumb
Like Cole
On Martin
Im Retarted
Ayyy

[Chorus:]
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Gooo
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb

Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Gooo
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb

[Ice Cube:]
Tell Me When To Go
Niggas Get Silly
Ice Cube On The Mic Fifty-One-Fifty
Nuthin But A Foo Yall Noe Who Wit Me
A West Cost Nigga Named E-4 Liquor
We Can Drink Malt Liquor
Till The Party Get Thicka
Then I Get Sicka
And Go Gorilla
Rollin Thru The Bay
Doors Open Mayne
Freaks On The Side Walk
Coastin Mayne
Then They Can Jump In
Get A Lil Sumthin
Yell Geranimo
Bitch Cuz I Gotta Go
Burn Rubber, Leave It In The Streets
Leave It To Them Dope Ass Lil' Jon Beats
Thay Make Ya Go Bizzerk
Till It Hurt, Put In Work
If Ya Scared Go To Church
Shake Them Dreads
Nigga F*ck Them Feds
Im Wit The E-4 Oh
Tell Me When To Go

[The Game:]
Know I Gey Hyphee
And Make Soft Stores
Addidas, Hurricanes, Timberlands, And Nikes
I'm So Hyphee
Snatch Up Wifeys
Got Half The Niggas In The Nba Tryin To Fight Me
I Put Down The Ball
Picked Up The Tech
I'm Nice Around Mikes Like Ryan Artesse
It Anit Betta For Da West
40 Wild Out I'm On One
Jesus Had Dreads So F*ck It Imma Grow Some
Then Imma Shake My Shit
After That Have A Bitch Braide My Shit
Chop It Off And Fade My Shit
If Da Layers Back Dat Mean Da Bay Is Back
Then The Top City's O.K Is Back
I Get Dumb,Dumb
Wit Da Windows Tinted
Cops Pull Da Benz Over
And Ain't Nobody In It
Ghost Ride Yo Da Whip
Ghost Ride Yo Shit
And When I Get By Da Spot I Ghost Ride Ya Bitch
It Go Front,Back Then I Pull In Out
Now Gas Break Da Car Peelin Now
First Master P, Den Pac, And Now Me From Da Bay
Don't Do It For Me Nigga Do It For Mac Dre

[Chorus:]
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Gooo
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb

Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Go
Tell Me When To Gooo
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb
Dumb, Dumb, Dumb Da Da Dumb
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DARRYL MCDANIELS, JOSEPH WARD SIMMONS, RUSSELL W SIMMONS, JONATHAN H SMITH, EARL STEVENS, EARL T STEVENS, CHARLES WILLIAMS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC



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Muscle Cars

Muscle Cars- yeeeey'!..

[Chorus]

[E-40]
Not out of the local news paper, but out the AutoTrader
Cleaner, than virgin cuchie, my nigg', one on her Cutlass, playa'
The beat wrapped in monster cables, the speakers thump'n
Trunk sound'n like King Kong, and Godzilla, back there thump'n
All we do is wic, and get high and petal and push!
Organic weed, mysterey weed, just purple cush!
I cut the the rear weld, on my whip, and filled that bitch up
and now muscle car sit'n up high like a monster truck
Monster up', suck up to none, don't be no poodle
Split his pack open like pack of Top Ramen noodle
In the heart of the soil, where you can find me
Try me f*ck boi', and get your face put on a white tee
40, Turf Talk and Keak the Sneak
They maynee' ass voices, and they styles is hekka unique
High speed chase's and run'n lights
Water in the duals, make loud glass pipes

[Chorus]

[Keak Da Sneak]
Thumper, and carburator. four speed Trany
Dual exahust dipped in sauce
My car is a beast, catch me in the streets side ways
Threw the East Side-Boi', crunk like Lil' Jon
Show 40, and Mac Keak the last don
East Okaland the land of the side show
Richmond, Frisco, to the Valley Jo'
I'm ridin side ways, this way and that way
Doors open, while in traffic
Hold the door open, (Hello!)
Shit'n on em', no front'n
455 got me run'n up on Aston Martins
We run from dem on streets, not the freeway
B&M shift kit (kirrrk) me and Danny Phea
On my celly cell stright lace with no f*ck'n dew
Mobb'n in my Ol' skool, like Lil' Bruce'

[Chorus]

[Turf Talk]
Four 15's, beat supreme
Told niggaz f*ck Rally's, ride gold one's mayne'
Mother's off candid, don't hate cause I ain't me
Race, foo, smoke in yo' face, foo'
Super charger, push this botton and my engine start up
Pistol tucked
Might be pirmiered, but my engine souped up
Quick to the floor, when you open yours
Don't scratch my doors. 350' I push heavy
Not a Ford it's (Chevy), (Chevy), (Chevy)
First owner, not too many miles on her
We rep the BAY, we don't rep Califronia, (I'm lie'n...)
I'm run you for your car note
Why you don't got SS's in front of your Monte Carlo?
Residence full of white folks
I'm leave fresh tire marks top of they asphalt

[Bridge]
You got muscle car? You f*ck'n wit' dem Muscle cars?

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DEMAR BERNSTEIN, JONATHAN H SMITH, EARL STEVENS, EARL T STEVENS, CHARLES WILLIAMS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC



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Go Hard Or Go Home

Introducin', the Almighty, 7 0 7
We in the buildin'
Go go go go go go go go go, hey hey
Go hard, go hard, go hard, go hard

Ooh, verbal vomit, I keep it one hundred
Dr. Scrill but you can call me Ebonics
Sideshows goin' nutty dumbin' out
Take the wrong turn and get your roof stomped out

Old school vans doors open, me in my Coupe
With some stoners we get high like Shaggy from Scooby Doo
I'm whiskeyed, I'm hit, I ain't go no patience
Pimpin' I'm a couple of tacos short of a combination

Get on yo' head like a shower from the gravel
When them scandalous dope deals be goin' sour
Recount, swivel, Gold Medal Flour
Want the fast quarter, f*ck a slow nickel, six bucks an hour

From the rooter to the tooter
He's the driver, I'm the shooter, don't be f*ckin' with my gouda
Ballergasms, side pots, and trill phones
Sidekicks and ringtones, go hard or go home

Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard

Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home

From the boom to the moon I coon like [?]
My goons take no prisoners, what fool?
What's beef? Beef is when E-40 on a fat verse
Swing 'em in the drive through, smashed up further

Gettin' off, if you from the Yay, that's North
Open up the do's, go, four on low
Four-fo' heat sick, monkey on my back
Psychos all on milk, won't let me go

Down my throat, yes, 'cause, buzz
What, I, go, numb
Slack hoes like Droop-E's
Put in thumb, run it back like Rick on the NPC, go hard

Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard

Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home

Like I did it, originally

We jumpin' on the top of your scrape-ella deuce
Three or four niggaz tryin' to cave in your roof
We jumpin' on the top of your scrape-ella deuce
Three or four niggaz tryin' to cave in your roof

We jumpin' on the top of your scrape-ella deuce
Three or four niggaz tryin' to cave in your roof
We jumpin' on the top of your scrape-ella deuce
Three or four niggaz tryin' to cave in your roof

Little purple, cuss like a sailor
Hammer on my waist, Tim the Toolman Taylor
Get rich, hate bein' po'
Cause my bitch keep askin' for juicy couture

In the club, you know we strapped up
My white tee shirt look like coke wrapped up
Forces and jeans, can't wear slacks
Got good hair, no wave cap

This whole block, standin' on the curb
Same niggaz with me I been knowin' since the 3rd
Tryin' to get it, sucks bein' bummy
Never shoulda gave you niggaz money

Bop be's, rock see's, drop H's
Grind more than Haitians or Jamaicans
Ain't about money then ain't got patience
Don't bring money then don't have relations

Some like Hannibal, I'm a mammal
Ain't with monkeys like Mike and Emmanuel
Change the channel, rearrange panels
Oh-seven like the perm on cavi

Your bitch babby, she don't bring patties
She can't ride shotgun in the Brougham Caddy
Put my nigga in, let him campaign
And don't cut him off like Jay did Dane

Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard

Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home, go hard
Go hard or go home

Sick wid it
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ANTHONY CALDWELL, EARL STEVENS, EARL T STEVENS, MARVIN SELMON, RICARDO THOMAS, THOMAS JACKSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC



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Gouda

[Intro]
Gouda
Sick Wid It Records
BME
Warner Brothers
The Machinery (Yee!)
Oooh, look out pimp!
Heavy on the grindin' entertainment
Stovetop productions

[Verse 1: E-40]
Oooh, Hustlers are us
My game sharper than an elephant's tusk
Me myself at night the only that I can trust
Sleep with one eye open finger on the pistol clutch (Ka ka ka!)
I got my hands and everything, I'm real instrumental
I'm as real as they come and got no bitch potential
When I was comin' up there certain things we don't allow
Like long fingernails and me and arching the eyebrow
Here's another thing I don't condone and don't approve
How all of a sudden snitchin' became cool (I dunno)
I'm gamed up I be chewin' on this mack granite
OG Jay be stomped that laced that niggas posted never can
I brought the baddest broad in the whole facilitation
All by way of mouthpiece just by my manipulation
I can make it look like I'm at my best when I'm at my worst
Persuade the broad to put on the dress and break her for her purse

[Hook]
Ten wraps and a rubber band (Gouda)
Three or four more in my other hand (Gouda)
Five, ten, fifteen, twenty (Gouda)
Twenty-five, thirty, thirty-five, forty (Chalupa)
Gettin' money I'm a stunna, man (Gouda)
In a 'lac shootin' box like a hundred grand (Gouda)
Forty-five, fifty-five, sixty-five, seventy-five (Gouda)
Eighty-five, ninety-five, wait, what am I doing? (Chalupa)

[Verse 2: E-40]
A day in the life on the soil in Caliscrillya
Take the wrong turn and these youngstas out here kill ya
Well I ain't concerned, they love us hustlas and dealers
They wanna tear our houses down so they can build some IKEAS
Oooh, Just tryna get my point across
Where I'm from it's pandamonium and chaos
Where I'm from the lights is off, we use matches
Where I'm from we do it bare-faced instead of ski masks (Ka ka ka!)
Oooh, No more talking on them cells
I heard the federal went ahead and bought Nextel (what?)
Oooh, Over-crowded jails
They got us sleepin' in the gym instead of our own cells
Ooh, Put our yeti together
Me and my investors, we flippin' ten or better
I got some booty, got a little bit of cheddar
Mama now you got more killers than a peacock better

[Hook]

[Verse 3: B-Legit]
Gettin' money I'm a stunna man
With bitch like I do little whips about the stunna van
My ? she a runner man
Off top, i'ma boss, shoot a box full of rubber bands
Contraband, on the other hand
Big girls, big quips, turn around, roll center man
On the real, I'm a gentleman
Put the scrilla, I'm a killa, man, hit it like a little man
What you doin' with that?
From the scratch, we can load up the 'lac
A-1, we can bring that back
From day 1, we get them wraps
Big stacks from the back of the shack
Ayee, I buy the weed man
Hella turkey bags just to put my weed in
Ohhh, we gettin' chalupa
Wrapped cheese in a rubber band and call it gouda

[Hook]

[Interlude]
Look out pimp! Ai-i-i-te! What it do!
We gettin' it, so whatchu need? (Gouda)
Bay business, so whatchu need? (Gouda)
We gettin' it, so whatchu need? (Gouda)
Ice ?, so whatchu need? (Chalupa)
We gettin' it, so whatchu need? (Gouda)
Bay business, so whatchu need? (Gouda)
We gettin' it, so whatchu need? (Gouda)
Sick Wid It, so whatchu need? (Chalupa)

We doin' way too much (Gouda)
We never watered down, we doin' way too much (Gouda)
And you don't wanna stunt with us (Gouda)
Hustlers are us, we doin' way too much (Chalupa)
We doin' way too much (Gouda)
We never watered down, we doin' way too much (Gouda)
And you don't wanna stunt with us (Gouda)
Hustlers are us, we doin' way too much (Chalupa)

[Hook]

[Outro]
The definition of gouda
(What's the definition?)
Chalupa, scrilla, scratch, paper, yaper
Capital (the definition)
Gouda means cheese, and cheese means yaper you square ass square butts
Biiiiiattchhhhh!
Let's get back to what we'se talkin' about earlier
What was we talkin' about earlier, pi-imp?
Hustlers...hustlers are us. Uh oh. Ahhh.
Look out (Look out, pimp)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: EARL STEVENS, RICARDO THOMAS, THOMAS JACKSON, RICHARD BAILEY
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Ultra Tunes



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Sick Wid It II

[Turf Talk + (E-40)]
Damn nigga, ay where Mikey at mayne?
Ay, ay Droop-E, Droop-E! You old enough to drink nigga?
Whassup cousin? (Whassup tycoon, what's goin on?)
It's your young nephew Turkey mayne
(What is it boy? What's goin on family?)
There's a lot of shit that need to be said big cousin
(Talk to me, I'll talk back)
First of all I'ma start by just sayin we can't be f*cked with
And you know it!!! (Ooooh)
Got all the whole hood in this motherf*cker (the whole soil)
Sick Wid It nigga (now) been runnin this shit

[E-40]
Look out pimp!
Oyster Perpetual, cushion cut bezel
I'm busy I ain't even had time to eat a fortune cookie
Since I signed with BME every promoter
and every agency in the industry been tryin to book me
Mackin-ass 40, what that do?
Sometimes me, always you
Man you a real-ass nigga, man you a boss
If I had yo' hand I woulda been done cut mine off
A cult following, hustlers they love me
Kill a tree and put a rock in the hospital over me
If you see me up in the mountains with a lion, I ain't lyin
Nigga don't help me, my nigga help the mountain lion!
Uhh, chalupas {?} thousand dollar stacks
Turn a couple of ki's into a couple hundred racks
The main drag, the soil, the blacktop
The gravel, the D-spot, we open like IHOP

[Turf Talk]
Yea mayne! These motherf*ckers know!
Nigga this is big 40-Water motherf*cker!
The ambassador of the Bay nigga!
Nigga we stay eatin over here motherf*cker!
You niggaz need to step your motherf*ckin weight up nigga
Sick Wid It, BME motherf*cker

[E-40]
Look out pimp!
Hit me on my chirp, I got that work
F*ck e'rybody else, I got myself on my shirt
Better hurry up and come and get 'em we got the lowest rates
I'm tellin you pimpin cause they goin like hotcakes
Cops come and spoil it we flushin it down the toilet
Throw it in the battery acid and then destroy it
Pay attention and learn, while I teach you how to grit and grind
Fifteen five? All the time (cool)
These square-ass rappers, they get a few bucks
Then they, lose contact get out of touch
With the, with the streets, we stick to the turf like cleets
Off the leash, we thirsty we hungry we beasts
Look out, watch out, here come the jumpout
Hide your dope in your anus, and put the weed out
'Fore they beat us and choke us and take our funds
And shoot us with them tazer guns

[Turf Talk]
You niggaz'll get your motherf*ckin head knocked off f*ckin with us boy
Nigga we been doin this shit nigga
Niggaz need to bow the f*ck down and pay homage nigga
Niggaz been stealin our shit for years 40!
Niggaz brave to talk around these motherf*ckers, WATER!

[E-40]
The whole enchilada, the whole taco
Motherf*cker I'm a capo!
Play with hundred round drums
Me and my u-salaam(?)
A stingy nigga, watch every penny that I spend
Go to any hood in the world and fit right in
A young nigga, with an old soul
A busy nigga, put the President on hold
Ride Vogues, 26 inch toes
Got the inside of the laws smokin like broke stogs
You can find me in the mall, buyin up all the clothes
Or in A-T-L or Club 112, throwin them 'bows
Left and right arms froze, cold like the ice from the cooler
Just left the jeweler, rose gold, Frank Mueller
I smoke big, growin weed in my garage
Police roll up, I got a cannabis card

[Turf Talk]
Wait wait wait! Money.. power and respect motherf*cker
40 told you niggaz mayne! We hongry nigga!
We eat soup with a fork around this bitch mayne!
Knahmean? Step your motherf*ckin weight up nigga
You niggaz pockets is touchin motherf*cker
You starvin! [laughter]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DEMAR BERNSTEIN, EARL JR STEVENS, EARL T STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © THE ADMINISTRATION MP, INC.



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JB Stomp Down (Skit)

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.

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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher



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They Might Be Taping

[E-40]
I like this Rick Rock

I don't be slackin in my mackin, I be doin it in a player fashion
Makin it happen, speakers slappin, scootin and skatin and Cadillac'n
I be, representin my region and pullin up in somethin decent
Used to buy shit off the lot, but now lately I've been leasin
Like the white man I've been thinkin, tryin to come up with a plan
How to spend this dope money, buy some houses and some land
Tryin to teach you niggaz somethin, tryin to lace you like a shoe
Buy a couple of big Celebrities pimpin it ain't gotta be brand new
I'm a boss about my shit, about the way I carry it
The way I wear my glasses low, the way I sport my toothpick
The way I pop it at a hoe, the way I utilize my mouth
The way I keep my f*ckin blowover over at a relative's house
Beware of yo' surroundings, gotta handpick yo' cronies
Gotta be about your allowance, and X out all the phonies
Gotta watch out for them folks, gotta watch yo' conversations
Gotta be careful on the phones cause them folks might be taping

[Chorus]
(Aww shit, talk in pig latin, use the codes)
They might be taping
(Aww man, you think they taping?)
Gotta be careful on the phones cause them folks might be taping
(Aww shit, they readin lips, cover your nose)
They might be taping
(Naw man, you think they taping?)
Gotta be careful on the phones cause them folks might be taping

[E-40]
40 {?} an ounce of space, ain't even had time to wash my face
I been in the traffic tryin to get it, I ain't got time to f*ckin waste
My money's short like I'm slippin, I'm tryin to smack it up and flip it
I'm tryin to turn this thousand dollars into a quarter of a mill' ticket
Some of you suckers be lyin to kick it, but that ain't the f*ckin way
Niggaz be sellin mo' wolf tickets than fake autographs on eBay
My orangutangs'll growl, with our upside down smile
We been doin it for a while, you can check my d-boy file
I be f*ckin 'em up like this man, I be killin 'em off like that
Divin up in them hoes mayne and treatin them hoes like rats
Niggaz don't really know that I'm so sincere about this here
Niggaz don't really know that I got my name from drinkin beer
Do a cauliflowered ear, me and my muskateers
Come through with them choppers, let the lil' homey steer
I like to dress up in my doctors, camouflage my real career
But I'm really packin woppers, pistols rusty like Pam Grier

[Chorus]

[Interlude]
"Taping, taping, taping-taping-taping" [2X]
[E-40] They might be taping
"Taping, taping, taping-taping-taping" [2X]
[E-40] Gotta be careful on the phones cause them folks might be taping

[E-40]
I wish a motherf*cker would, I'm still livin my second childhood
My mentality, my frame of mind, all hood
I'm in the local booth with my nine, breakin down a backwood
Sippin on 40, drink cloud nine, try to get it while it's good
In the heart of the soil, in the middle of the paint, where it ain't
Where we park our cars on the grass, sell hop and push crank
Where the dopefiends dig in our tracks and siphon gas from our tanks
Where the biggest hypocrites in the church call themselves saints
I don't gossip like bitches I mind my own f*ckin business
Dig yaper good money cause that sucker shit ain't nutritious
I don't be burnin no bridges I'm a loyalist 'bout my riches
Gumbo pots boil, good with the skillet like a chemist
Steady long like a female weave, cooler than antifreeze
Bust you in the toe like Eddie Murphy did DeLouise
Act like you know what I represent, bitch please
That powdered milk section 8 and that government cheese, hoe!

[Chorus]

[Outro - same as Interlude]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: EARL STEVENS, EARL T STEVENS, RICARDO THOMAS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC



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Do Ya Head Like This

[Chorus - E-40]
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Now gas break dip dip, gas break dip dip
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this

[E-40 - Verse 1]
When i told ya i had a white gurl
I thought yall was gonna hurl
Yall looked sick but the bitch still suck on my dick
{ohh}
But to all my niggaz in the pin and some wating to get it in
I want all yall niggas to....

[Chorus - E-40]
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Now gas break dip dip, gas break dip dip
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this

[Doe - Verse 2]
This is a discipline rap for my niggaz back in tha bin
Tryin to hustle for the tin
A discipline tracks for my niggaz that rap
But now im back and i hope ya dont do that ...
Soul is the heart of it i hope i can get every lil bit of it
But sometimes ya gotta slow it down
Like the few Mc's that do shows in my town
Back in 2000 the rap game was lackin
Like some of them rappers bringin two steps back in
But today is the day for hunger in the game
It aint bout the fame its all about the brains
And if you got that and yo rhymes are phat
Gone on head and do that
But ya always gotta think ...
Ohh u thought i stopped rappin
Put yo money back in the bank on my rank im numba 1
You is numba 2 i dont know what cha gone do
Ya gotta think it threw but too all my Mc's
Back in the game this shit it like it was back in the day
Im bout to thorw the fist all my hoes do ya head like this {ohh}

[Chorus - E-40]
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Now gas break dip dip, gas break dip dip
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this

[E-40 - Verse 3]
Check it out now
My boy doe just ripped it
Sip it smkoe it do sumthin wid it
Get suppa sick wid it
Girl im headin to tha south
I really want u to head down south if u know what i mean
Use ur mouth like ur in a bath ridin on a rath
But to all my niggaz in the pin and some wating to get it in
I want all yall niggas to....

[Chorus - E-40]
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Now gas break dip dip, gas break dip dip
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this

[Keak Da Sneak - Verse 4]
Super hyipihe in this bitch smokin on da litch
Throw that bitch right back in that nasty ass ditch
X on my side slab on my phab my car shoot bullets
Like the arm of donavaon mccnabb but think fast hoe
4-4 gone blow me and e-40 we got all the dough
But my boy doe he git it to he hustlin at 14
Tryin to get a wagur too

[Chorus - E-40]
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Now gas break dip dip, gas break dip dip
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
Do ya head like this, do ya head like this
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: EARL STEVENS, EARL T STEVENS, RICARDO THOMAS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC



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Block Boi

[Verse 1: E-40]
Out here is sick, AR-70's and albino pits (Albino pits)
Patriots and bushmasters, home invasions and licks
I'm in it to make the most, you in it to flamboast (Boast)
You in it to tricking off to them hoes, I'm in to make her buy me some clothes (Clothes)
I be treating my scraper like a Rolls, lemme stop lying, no I don't (Don't)
I be sideways on two toys, all the rappers call me Unc (Unc)
Feasible, unheathable, the best thing that ever did it (Did it)
Incredible like E. Jerome, you pitch it, I'm a hit it (Hit it)
One of my youngsters just got popped with a thumper (Thumper)
They tryna wash him, they talking football numbers (Football numbers)
They tryna stop him, it's murk in the Ave (In the Ave)
Take one of mine, I'm take three of theirs (Three of theirs)
Some of you suckers can't take a lettuce from a cabbage (Cabbage)
A coon from a plum, kangaroo from a radish (From a raddish)
Look at my life, look at my guys, look at my fame (Look at my fame)
Look at you guys, look at my eyes, look at my cane (Look at my cane)

[Hook: Stressmatic x2]
Block, block, block, block boi
Block, b-block, b-block, block, block boi
... Block, block, block, block boi
Ride with a thing to put your head on a slab

[Verse 2: Miko]
M wanted this piece, already (Already)
Squat a 33-year-old Chevy (Old Chevy)
Replace everything, all in Heat Cherry (Yeah)
So much chrome under the hood, straight scary
Get my grown man on, Sacramento Valley
On 22's, playboy vet rallies (Rallies)
Tremendo, to the extreme, where I go
Pimping I'm cleaner than a San Jose car show
... Hotter than Barstow in August
Chevy Land love me, I'm year one flawless (One flawless)
The law just, pull up beside me, give me the thumbs up
I turn the beat up like "That's what up"
Hah, studio tone, yadadamean
Got us mobbed out, smacking like magazine (Like magazine)
When I wanna roll deep, I gotta van (Gotta van)
But right now, it's young Meek in the waterbed

[Hook: Stressmatic x2]
Block, block, block, block boi
Block, b-block, b-block, block, block boi
... Block, block, block, block boi
Ride with a thing to put your head on a slab

[Verse 3: E-40]
Sick of turfs scorchers, smoking hot like a broken stove
Me and my Filipinos, Tongans and Cholos
... On the soil, taking precaution
On the roof, in the trees with the Latins, listening and watching, oooh
... Good grief, it's never been this ugly out here, we in some heavy beef
They left his body in the streets for twelve hours
Candlelight vigils, sidewalk funerals and flowers, oooh
These youngsters aint listening, they disrespecting me
Aint no OG's to holler at, no one to detonate, oooh
... Chemical babies, the parents smoking rocks
Plus they aint never had a chance to know God (To know God)
In my days, I was raised in the church
Momma did what she could just to keep us off the turf (Keep us off the turf)
... But it aint no one to blame (But)
But Noriega and Regan and rock cocaine

[Hook: Stressmatic x2]
Block, block, block, block boi
Block, b-block, b-block, block, block boi
... Block, block, block, block boi
Ride with a thing to put your head on a slab
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: EARL STEVENS, EARL T STEVENS, MARVIN WHITMON, MIKO YOUR, THOMAS JACKSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC



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White Gurl

[E-40] White girl (x8)

(White girl" continues to repeat 8X in background)
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl

[E-40] Girl girl (x8)

[E-40]
I throw the yola in the pot, let it simmer and bathe
Add a little baking soda, make it foam like aftershave
I like to serve my dope wet, cause it weigh a hella lot mo'
You can smell the residue and the fumes from next do'
Ughhh, turf superstar, microwaves and pickle jars
Portable digital scales, custom painted muscle cars
Pimpin where the razor blade? Use a safety pin
What they goin fo'? Nigga what you tryin to spend?
When it's a drought I just sit on my dope and wait
For the prices to skyrocket and rise like real estate
I got that ice cream, that candy, that girl, that white white white
My car's a Charger 2006 Hemme, tight tight tight
I'm a d-boy, BOOTCH, I thought you knew
Just like ehhhhhhhhhhh'ry motherf*cker in my crew (BEOTCH!)
Bundle in the bushes, chopper up in the tree
AK'll light up your chest like E.T.

[E-40] White girl (x4)

(?White girl" continues to repeat x12 in background)
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl

[Juelz Santana]
Uhh, now let me introduce the world to my girl
She white, she bright, she shine like a pearl
And I ain't talkin 'bout Lindsay Lohan
I'm talkin 'bout that sniff that blow man, what that
One hit that'll get you open
Might make your nose bleed, if it's potent
So if you're not ready, homey don't tamper with it
She the chick who had Tony Montana slippin
She so bad she make you mad
But soon as you get mad, she make you cash
That white girl, but she ain't always that light
She ain't always that bright, she ain't always that white
Nope; gimme one girl, I mean one gram
I'll teach how to give a white girl a suntan
Put it in that pot, 'til it get that hot
Then start to Sir Mix-A-Lot

[E-40] White girl (x4)

(?White girl" continues to repeat x12 in background)
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl

[E-40] Oooh!

[Bun B]
Well down in the Dirty, South to be exact
Gettin money with white girls is a well-known fact
I like 'em black, brown, Puerto Rican or Asian
But nothin bring the bread back like a caucausian
Whether, winter fall, summer or spring
A white girl's always down for doin the damn thing (fo' sho')
Put her on the highway, she ain't no punk
Got a white girl drivin with white girls in the trunk (hold up)
I ain't lyin, it's the best thing goin
When my white girl's around, it's always snowin
Momma cain't stand her, tellin me to switch
Sayin I'ma go to jail f*ckin with that white bitch (no shit)
Always around to keep me paid
With some white girls on my team, I got it made
So if you down on your luck, and got no money
Then do what I do (what?) go get you a snow bunny mayne a

[E-40] White girl (x4)

(?White girl" continues to repeat x12 in background)
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl

[Pimp C]
I got the Pyrex workin with the white girl in it
It's the dope Superbowl and nigga I'm 'bout to win it
No question marks or commas, nigga we got the scarma
When we through with this batch, we goin out to the Bahamas
I keep them stiff broads when I'm f*ckin with the hogs
Cause they never get stopped by the motherf*ckin cops
Bootch look hard but the bitch is a fraud
Don't like to see me ball, want me to go rock a rock
Move around bitch, you need to get out the way
I keep a young Suzy when it's time to move yay
You need to learn the game befo' you try to play
Cause like Calgon, them laws'll take you away
So I keep me a snow bunny, ridin in the front
With a triple zillion head and a platinum cunt
Ya already know they eat nuts like a squirrel
Let me hit ya in your ass and bust nuts in your curl
White girl (laughing) bitch!
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: LARON N JAMES, JOSEPH N MALLOY, ROOSEVELT N SHERIFF, JONATHAN H SMITH, DAVID LEE N SPRADLEY, EARL N STEVENS, WILLIAM N STROMAN
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC



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GetTheFuckOn.com Pt. 1 (Skit)

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.

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Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher



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U and Dat

[T-Pain]
Girl, I been shaking, sticking, and moving tryin' to get you and that booty
Tryin' to get to you and that booty
Tryin' to get to you and that booty
Girl, I been shaking and acting a donkey tryin' to get you and that monkey
Tryin' to get to you and that monkey
Tryin' to get to you and that monkey

[T-Pain]
Girl, he simpin' (Simpin')
I walk up in the club with a limpin' (limpin')
God listen, what you gonna do with this pimpin'?
What you gonna do with this pimpin'?
Girl, I'm a call ya (call ya)
Later on tonight or tomorrow ('morrow), now follow
What you gonna do with this baller?
What you gonna do with this baller?

[E-40]
What you gonna do when I bend the block (bend the block)?
Pull up on that ass in a brand new drop (brand new drop)?
Speakers on blast with tremendous knock ('mendous knock)?
TV's in the dash, rims just won't stop
You need to be down with a pimp like me
I ain't turning down nothing but my collar, you see
I'm a leave you with my number; you should holler at me
'Cause I'm a baller; can't nobody hustle harder than me, oh

[T-Pain]

[E-40]
Oh, your ass is right
I ain't tryin' to let that pass me tonight
I'm a put my bid in and tell you something slick
Whisper in your ear while I'm holding my dick
I don't mean no harm, it's the hood in me (hood in me)
Sipping on that Renshaw Hennessy (Hennessy)
Psychedelic colors in my jewelry (jewelry)
Suckers hella jealous 'cause you digging me, oh
Now what you gonna do, mama?
I'm tryin' to dip later on, me and you, mama
I like the way that you groove and you move, mama
You know the women love me; I'm the forty water (forty water)
Popping my P's 'cause I'm laced with game
Nothin' but the Yay flowing through my vein
She wear Miss Sixty, can't fit in the Gucci
'Cause her ass big enough to sit a cup on her booty (goodness!)

[T-Pain]

[Kandi Girl]
Yeah, I see you looking (looking)
But my ass in these jeans got you shook, and (shook, and)
I don't think you know what to do with this pussy
What you gonna do with this pussy?
Yeah, I know you want this (want this)
Tryin' to chase me through the club for this good shit (good shit)
But I don't think you can handle this pussy
What you gonna do with this pussy?

[E-40]
You looking like you got that good gooshy, gooshy
F*cking 'round with me, I beat the brakes off that pussy
Have your ass cumming like a porn star movie
Tell your friends, and I bet they all wanna do me
Hos know me, I'm E-Fo-Oh (E-Fo-Oh)
They recognize pimping when I step in the door (step in the door)
Higher than a satellite full of that dro (full of that dro)
Holla at a playa when you ready to go, oh

[T-Pain]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: JONATHAN SMITH, ALPHONZO BAILEY, EARL STEVENS, KANDI BURRUSS, FAHEEM NAJM
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Royalty Network, Reservoir Media Management, Inc., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.



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Im Da Man

[Intro / Chorus 2X: Al Kapone]
Drank in my cup, blunt in my hand
Hoes on my dick cause they know I'm da mayn! [3X]

[E-40]
Drank in my cup, blunt in my hand
Hoes on my dick cause they know I'm the man
I'm in the V.I.P. cause I'm very im-por-tant (tant)
Unfortunately I see some niggaz I can't stand (I can't staind)
So I stepped to them suckers and confronted 'em like I should
We can settle this now or we can settle this in the hood
Uhh, so what y'all wanna do? I got a hundred dudes
We got a hundred tools, tryin to get on somethin new
You married to the ave and still datin
I'm loyal to my soil, I don't need no ultimatum
Stop hatin, I ride with my crimeys in crime
I grind with the gritty and grime, let's go!
I'm buyin my yola, you gettin chronic
I'm tryin to go out the park, you tryin to bunt it
So you know if I drop it then it's a hit
The game got it in my grip like a catcher's mitt

[Chorus]

[Mike Jones]
Mike Jones, geyeah!
Geyeah, Ice Age Entertainment
Sick Wid It baby, geyeah!

You know me I get that purple jelly in my cup, 84's rollin up
Hoes know I'm the man, cause I'm always showin up
My big bills so swoll that I can't even fold 'em up
Big bills so swoll that I can't even fold 'em up
Hold 'em up, who dat is representin the South
With them diamonds in his mouth, know what I'm talkin 'bout
Mike Jones, nigga in the streets I'm a king
April 18th I'm droppin "The American Dream"
I'm 'bout to shut down the game, my car shut down the lane
E-40, Mike Jones and Ice Age Entertain'
Gettin change, we grippin grain in the turnin lane
with a cup full of mud, and a pocket full of change
Mike Jones, I'm sittin sideways in my dropper
Lookin out for coppers, checkin these boppers
Mike Jones, 2-8-1, 3-3-oh
8-zero-zero-fo', holla at me, I got that

[Chorus]

[E-40 - echo each phrase]
Uhhhh - actin bad.. showin my ass..
Havin my cash.. rappin fast..
Duke of the ave.. slangin them sacks..
Like a {?}.. smokin grass..
Blazin the block.. sellin that hot..
Slickin the cops.. pushin that rock..
Totin them chops.. open up shop..
Punchin the clock.. pistols cocked..
Havin my change.. drivin a Range..
Switchin the lanes.. hyphy train..
Claim to fame.. makin a name..
Deep in the game.. what set you claim..
Doin it movin.. hoes be choosin..
Cause we winnin.. and y'all losin..
Big tycoon.. drinkin pukin..
Niggaz feudin.. fightin shootin

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ALPHONSO J. N BAILEY, LA MARQUIS N JEFFERSON, MIKE A. N JONES, CRAIG N LOVE, JONATHAN H SMITH, EARL N STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management, Songtrust Ave, TRAIN GANG MUSIC



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Yee

That's the call of my thugs
When they step up in the club they go "YEE!"
When you hit the prison bricks
From Vallejo or the Rich' they holla "YEE!"
You can catch me in the traffic
In the Cutlass or the Maverick holla'n "YEE!"
If it's lookin like some static
We gon' bust them automatics like "YEE!"

My area code grow some of the best weed in the world
My ninja we ain't no punk
They say we need to take a bath in tomato juice
Cause we always smell like skunk
Sloppy drunk, 9 times out of 10, or e'ry time you see me
Bendin co'ners, in my brand new Dodge Durango Hemi
Pimpin the law up on us! Officer Smokey and Mr. Johnny Law
Always pullin me over and searchin my f*ckin car
Searchin my glutteus maximus, flashlight in my drawers
Actin like some batches-es, thinkin I got raw!
Doin it big, take a swig, sip a sip, twist a lid
Smoke a spliff, or a {?}, push a wig, 'bout my nig
E'rybody wanna talk that talk
Wanna walk that walk, wanna bark that bark
E'rybody wanna pop that pop
Wanna drop that stop with a pillowtop
I get a call from Young Bop, he up out my zone
He said yo' Hillside nigga Ned on his way home
I said well tell him to call me I love his ass to death
Any nigga hatin we gon' take his last breath

That's the call of my thugs
When they step up in the club they go "YEE!"
When you hit the prison bricks
From Vallejo or the Rich' they holla "YEE!"
You can catch me in the traffic
In the Cutlass or the Maverick holla'n "YEE!"
If it's lookin like some static
We gon' bust them automatics like "YEE!"

Beotch! Beotch!
It's yo' potnah from the town mayne
I see y'all doin it big, you gettin down mayne
Yeah I f*ck with the V, Richmond know me
Wherever niggas ballin that's where bitches gon' be
You can go across the bridge, f*ckin with a bitch
Don't matter which side, you'll be all up in some shit
Before you know it, it ain't like it used to be
E'rybody got straps that shoot you or me
I don't give a f*ck about who, I don't even know you
Whassup? Yeah pimpin, I got my thang too
And it's cool, cause I know you know it
I ain't even gotta pull it, I ain't even gotta show it
Don't blow it, that's what a black man's thinkin
I'll be layin underground in a casket stinkin
If I slip, I gotta keep my poise
You hear that eight-oh-eight bumpin
Man what's all that noise?

That's the call of my thugs
When they step up in the club they go "YEE!"
When you hit the prison bricks
From Vallejo or the Rich' they holla "YEE!"
You can catch me in the traffic
In the Cutlass or the Maverick holla'n "YEE!"
If it's lookin like some static
We gon' bust them automatics like "YEE!"

Get your head busted in, I'm not your boy or your friend
You said dat do dat, pull dat shoot that
Now where your crew at, what'chu gon' do next?
I'm a West coast nigga, YEE!
I'm a East coast nigga, YEE!
I'm a Down South nigga, YEE!
I'm a Midwest nigga, YEE!

That's the call of my thugs
When they step up in the club they go "YEE!"
When you hit the prison bricks
From Vallejo or the Rich' they holla "YEE!"
You can catch me in the traffic
In the Cutlass or the Maverick holla'n "YEE!"
If it's lookin like some static
We gon' bust them automatics like "YEE!"
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: KEVIN DAVIS, BRANDON MEDLOCK, TODD SHAW, JONATHAN H SMITH, EARL STEVENS, EARL T STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.



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GetTheFuckOn.com Pt. 2 (Skit)

Ay man pour me up for real
I got Lil Andre in that bitch
I got everybody in this bitch yeah
She roll my weed for me
She pour my Sprite for me
She call me Drac so she f*ck up the night for me
She said she'd die for me and I might die for her
What you gon' do for love what you gon' do to hurt
She roll my weed for me
She pour my Sprite for me
She call me Drac so she f*ck up the night for me
She said she'd die for me and I might die for her
What you gon' do for love what you gon' do to hurt
Queen Drac, King Drac shit
Black on black fit that's that Rick and she got on her Raf shit
And she say Donny you be back on your bullshit
Countin' racks, poppin' drugs yeah my body full of it
And I put that on my momma
I ain't shit but I could change for you
I could make it rain for you
Take away the pain for me
Pourin' up the pain for me
Pourin' up for change for you
Pourin' up for like everybody
Pourin' up for my
She roll my weed for me
She pour my Sprite for me
She call me Drac so she f*ck up the night for me
She said she'd die for me and I might die for her
What you gon' do for love what you gon' do to hurt
She roll my weed for me
She pour my Sprite for me
She call me Drac so she f*ck up the night for me
She said she'd die for me and I might die for her
What you gon' do for love what you gon' do to hurt
I was in love with the racks, I was in love with the drugs
Then I met you and like everything changed
And I bagged a sack and I bagged a bad bitch
Back to back now it's back to that
Back to love back to this
Back to that now I'm back on this
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Nuri Junup
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid



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Just Fuckin

[ Featuring Bosko ]

[E-40] What's goin on momma? I don't know why you trippin
[Bosko] I don't know why you act this way, this way
[E-40] You already knew what it was from the beginnin
[E-40] You know how we've been gettin down
[Bosko] I know you want this too
[E-40] We just friends right?
[Bosko] We should never stop what we do
[E-40] We got a good thing goin baby

[Chorus: Bosko]
We're not in love but we pretennnnd
We both know we're just fu-ckin (we're f*ckin)
The situation's a win-win (it's a win-win)
We both know we're just fu-ckin (we're f*ckin)

[E-40]
Oooh; thick like a big bowl of grits, big tits good looks
I knew you had some good gush gush
Cause you look like you did and I can tell it was bomb (what type)
The type of broad to squirt when she bust a nut and she cum
You said you know I got a man but he ain't treatin me fair
He always gone plus he never take me nowhere
I said what'chu tryin to tell me, he act like you don't exist?
Yup and when he come home he smell like liquor and fish
Fool don't know what he missin, he tardy and lame
But that's his loss, and it's my game
You got a mean throat game and your coochie is serious
Pussy so good I f*ck you on your peroid
Naw we ain't in love but we can damn sho' pretend to be
Get a sack of that broccoli and a bottle of Hennessy
Check into a room at the Fairfield Inn (and then what)
Fire up some purple, let the beatings begin (oooh)

[Chorus w/ different ad libs]

[E-40]
Your girlfriends is jealous and sexually frustrated
So of course they hated after you told 'em how I ate it
And you know what they say about fellas with big feet
So why you wanna put my business out in the street?
They already give me extra long hugs and shit (what else)
They want your position, they tryin to scoot you up out of it
Take your foot of the gas, I thought we had an arrangement
You missin the point, it ain't gon' be no engagement
You need to play your position, or you out of the game
You testin my mackin, you out of yo' range
We just f*ck-buddies, I'm just stickin and bonin ya
Get somewhere with that dumb shit, stick to the formula
I'll come over later when your kids asleep
And so some nasty things that they gon' have to bleep
Give it to you good, while he out there trickin
Make your man say, "Girl yo' coo-coo feel different!"

[Chorus w/ different ad libs]

[E-40] We just f*ckin

[Bosko]
Baby please stop the whinin
Let me tell out your linin
Orgasms multiplyin
Under the sun that's shinin
On-ly a fool would throw this a-wayyyyyyyyyyy (ooooh)

[Chorus w/ E-40 ad libs too]

[E-40] We just f*ckin

[Bosko + (E-40)]
Don't act like you want this to end
I know you don't, know you don't (oooh)
We both know we're just fu-ckin (We just f*ckin sweetheart)
We can do this and still be friends
(Yeah, we can still be friends)
We both know we're just fu-ckin (we just f*ckin)
Just let me do ya baby (just let me do ya)
Just let me screw ya baby (let me screw ya)
I swear I'll f*ck you all night

[E-40]
You know, I'll come through
I got the Astroglide, I got the larger size prophylactics
Lifestyle, oowop edition you smell me?
It's therapeutic and healin
You know we got a certain chemistry sweetheart
I come through the turf the other day
Why'knahmean they scream out - here for the hemp list
Here for the hemp list
I go pick up a zip, stop by the liquor sto'
Pick up a bottle of Beefeater and a bottle of donald trump grapefruit juice
Cause I know that's yo' favorite, oooh
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BOSCO KANTE, EARL STEVENS, EARL T STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC



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Gimme Head

[E-40 Talking:]
Damn lil mama.........I aint gon' lie yo dome action is vicious.......
Feels like I'm in yo pussy when you suckin' my dick......

[Chorus (Bosko) X2:]
Feels like Im in yo pussay........when your suckin my dick........
Gimme Head Hoe [repeats all through chorus]

[First verse (E-40)]
Smack it up flip it, rub it down
Feel so good when you go down town
I like it when you moan and groan and make that sound
I love to see your face when you do that frown
Dont hold back just do yo job
lick it up and down like corn on the cob
Slob on my knob while yo pussy throb
Gimme head till Im deader than a f*ckin Doorknob
Theraputic and healin, couldn't fight the feelin
She pulled my dick back like a banana pealin'
Her throat game platinum worth a million
Put her on a track we can make a killin'
She can wrap her whole mouth around a fireman pole
Suck a tennis ball through a garden hose
Low cut jeans like to show that flesh
Pierced toungue ring big lips and breasts
Extasy, Hennesy
Broccoli, the remedy
Late night creepin at the Embassy
Im hard like Im out the penetentary
Baby got back like a slab of ribs
Dang near wanna make her have my kids
Take her home let her meet my mom and dad
Then introduce her to all my niggs
Front back, side to side
Gettin good head while Im in my ride
Dip to the crib then we do it again
Have a deepthroat contest you and your friends
Like the 4th of July Im tryin to reach my peak
Pull it out your mouth now its time to skeet
Shoot it everywhere while Im beatin my meat
In your face in your hair all over the sheets

[Chorus x2]

[2nd Verse (Al Kapone)]
Up and down, in and out,
Let me f*ck you in yo mouth
Slow, dome head, thats the type of shit Im talkin bout'
Gimme dat, Gimme dat, Im so glad you into that
If chewin's, what your doin, then you best believe Im comin back
Black, White, Asian, and Latino don't discriminate
Take it out, take it to the face, then ejaculate
Freaky bitch, nasty bitch my nigg I swear she love this shit
Dont trip pimpin she gon' swallow it if you bust in it
Look into her eyes, she gon' cum, in the process
Have her panties soakin' wet, try to make her choke on it
Deep-throat action hard, dick is what Im packin'
When she coughin, when she gaggin' she get pimp satisfaction....
Got a nigga weak, in the knees uh
Speakin in another toungue, thank you mama cita
Thats the way you freak her, Papita in her beak uh
Feelin like that pussy let me stroke it a little deeper

[Chorus x2]

[Bosko x4:]
Suck, suck it baby......suck all of me

[Chorus x3]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ALPHONSO J. N BAILEY, B N KANTE, CRAIG N LOVE, JAMES N PHILLIPS, JONATHAN H SMITH, EARL N STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC



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She Say She Loves Me

[CHORUS]
She say she love me
she she say (she love me)
she say she love but,
all we do now is f*cking fight
[x3]

[E-40]
if i ask u rob that bank
with me would u do it?
would do ya time like
martha stwert? would bust a
nine would ya go back would
ya put ya life on the line
with me hit the dough track?
(dough track) is ya down well ya beat a coch down? if a pimp couldnt
swim would ya let a pimp drown?
could stop naggin me about last night two wrongs dont make a right, all we do is f*cking fight
kiss and make up lay up all night, now bend over why i lay this
pipe, while i beat the coochie
up till the borad day light,
she say she love me but
when im in the studio she be
gettin all lova (she say she love me) but i could get f*ck bout cause
im bout my money, bently cumma ridin jumma, money loans like cqcumbas, got that twig pushin fees
frankisin do two three (two three) im bout my money hangin out
the window throwing up the play
boy bunny, aint never phony ima
keep it moving man cause im always
hungry lil mama what it is tell what it be?do u need a lil kim to
a lil qulity time a lil bumpin an grind a lil wine and dime a lil movie, a lil money, some time a lil
dochi kanbe, cheri, lou vatin a lil jewlery, why u mad why u always
take it out on me why u always
showing out in front company?

[CHORUS]

[8 Ball]
man aint never seen one look like u cutie DAMN!!
5'2 with a nice round booty u was just my type and
i could see it in yo eyes and i knew that from day one stayin
up all night just chillin talkin
bout what we going name our son,
24/7 hustlin the object to not
being broke again,let me get ya
whole pay check one time when i
couldnt pay the rent, now look at
ya baby benz with the lil tv and
the crazy rims,big rocks on ya
hand tell ya friends big daddy
brought them,now on the otha hand here we go talkin bout where
the f*ck u been always in at the studio in another time zone tryin
to to get rich,get u ? niggas mad
u on my team cause they how u move
them things, come home be a mama and a wife a freak in the bed
baby,im trying to work why u gotta call 100 times like u craza
dont play when the time is right we can go up in the air and go play
wanna go play and stay here and
love me everyday

[CHORUS]

[Bun B]
now theres a stranger in my house and my bed f*cking up my life
and bread, playin mind games all
in my head, sometimes i swear u wrost then the feds, u love a nigga
then hate a nigga then u love
again this shits confusin, in the
streets hittin licks im winnin come home f*cking with u and im
losin, im bulit for drama but
not this kind been slid befor but
not this time, these years of viting this year hustlin u cant be f*cking up this grind,now u been
doing to much campin,bumpin ya gums
and yapin and again in grown folk
business and baby girl i just cant
let that happen, i been out here
spitin ths blood f*ckin with cut
throats to get this cake, but it
swear it seem like the more i give
ya u try to take my heart and my
back ya tryin break,i aint crazy
i see the signs, trying steal my
light and my shine, u must be outta
yo f*cking mind,i just wanted to
spoil ya ass and i guess i succeed,
but now ya just to f*cking concede if this is love i dont
need it, you acting like you the
pimp and im the hoe (hell no), man
i swear the god if yo pussy want
the bomb i would have left a long
time ago BITCH!!!
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHAD L. N BUTLER, WILLIAM N COLLINS, GARY N COOPER, BERNARD JAMES N FREEMAN, CRAIG N LOVE, GARRY MARSHALL N SCHIDER, JONATHAN H SMITH, EARL N STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, A SIDE MUSIC LLC D/B/A MODERN WORKS MUSIC PUBLISHING, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.



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Happy To Be Here

[female singer - repeat in background]
I'm just happy to be here!

[E-40 over singer]
Hard times, the struggle
The ups and downs, the highs and the lows
You know just goin through it man, ghetto politics
Tryin to make a way out of no way
I was the oldest, so I had to be, the daddy of the family
Momma had to work three jobs, oooh

Feet stickin through my shoes, skid marks in my drawers
Garage sales and flea markets, we never shopped at malls
No dental plan, no medikit - we poor like rain
Colored folks think that castor oil cures everythang
Pork chops and chicken, we like our food fried
Hypertension, Prenavil pills and hydro-chlorizide
Some of my family still living, some of my family died
Health complications, natural causes and homicide
Just tryin to survive, nothin to lose but plenty to gain
Started hustlin, flea flickin and servin that candy cane
Put all my cars in my lady name, as a true hustler should
She had a 9 to 5, worked at Planned Parenthood
While I was in the hood, up to no good
with a hoodie over my head, tryin to outslick the feds
Or should I say cops, at this point in time I only had rocks
Went from a little a jelly jar up to a soup pot
The fast quarter my negro, don't want the slow nickel
I done seen yola the same color as peanut brittle
I done seen hella people relapse
I done seen my homey grandparents go back to crack
How sick is dat? Beggin my loved ones to send some pictures
Pray for me over the phone and read me some scriptures
Oooh; it's gloomy out here, dark days ahead
God got my back but the devil he want my head

[Chorus: D.D. Artis]
I'm just happy to be here right now
Lot of my folks been locked up or laid down
See I'm sayin I ain't shed no tears, no
But I'm just happy to be here

[E-40]
Listen to this, oooooh
The devil-me side know that some of y'all done seen it
Somebody's momma washin her son or her daughter's bloodstain off the cement
Wrong place at the wrong time, infiltrators drop a dime
Mistaken identity, bullets start flyin
in every direction, hit a pregnant teen, she passed
But her baby live through a C-section
I know it sound foul and sound hecka rude, it ain't cool
But it go down like that sometime when you're funkin, and you're puttin down a move
We heartless and shrewd in this day and age, it ain't the same
Our parents need to beat us with a belt, like Poody Tang
I be high like an airplane
I be smokin and perkin, takin out anger and stress on the wrong person
Re-uppin and coppin turf an' just servin the soil block
Grittin tryin to put some gifts in my kid's Christmas stock'
Ooooh - pour out some liquor and shed a tear
For the homies that never made it and family that ain't here

[Chorus]

[D.D. Artis]
So happy
You know I'm happy to be
Said I'm happy, so happy just to be here
To beeeeeee, to beeeeeeeeeeee
To beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee (I'm so happy)
(Oh I'm so happy)
I'm so happy to be, to beeeeeeee-heeeeeeeeee
To beeeeeeeee (to be here)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BOSCO KANTE, EARL STEVENS, EARL T STEVENS
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC



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Back to: E-40

My Ghetto Report Card Info:
(buy at amazon.com)
My Ghetto Report Card

My Ghetto Report Card is the ninth studio album by American rapper E-40. It was released on March 14, 2006, by Sick Wid It Records, BME Recordings and Reprise Records.

The album was supported by two singles: "Tell Me When to Go" featuring Keak Da Sneak, and "U and Dat" featuring T-Pain and Kandi Girl.
Performed By: E-40
Genre(s): Hip hop
Producer(s): E-40, Lil Jon, Rick Rock, Droop-E, Bosko, Studio Ton
Length: 74:45
Released: March 14th, 2006
Year: 2006

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