[Verse 1: E-40]
|
Uh!
|
Let me go and knock my verse down and beat this track back
|
This one of em party starters mane make the party crack
|
I'm in the vocal vuze right now with my plastic cup filled to the rim
|
Bout to head out to the club and try to knock some new trim
|
What'chu mean new trim? Some twenty-one and up coochie
|
I don't know what they be puttin' in the water nowadays but white girls got big booties
|
Ain't no color line I'm color blind let me stop lying mister
|
We all created equal but I prefer a sister
|
Like baby girl right there she gotta big ba-donka-donk
|
She probably workout three times a week and eat what the fuck she want
|
You got your thumper on you my nig just in case we get into some funk?
|
Naw remember they patted me down I put it back in the trunk
|
Well I got mine on me homie, and if I have to I'll shoot
|
Well I don't think I'm a sucka they better not hip, bip or boot
|
Fuck all of the VIP let's order some drinks and sit at the bar
|
I'm a reckless street nigga everybody wanna be a superstar
|
|
[Chorus: E-40]
|
Pushin' up, bring it down
|
Side to side, round and round
|
I'm high off the ground
|
I'm try'na take her to the telly and pound
|
This thang yankin'
|
Yankin' yankin' yankin' yankin'
|
Yankin'
|
Yankin' yankin' yankin' yankin'
|
This thang yankin'
|
|
[Verse 2: Hot]
|
Neck full of jewelry tell a playa haters hello
|
Pull up in that Porsche painted Japanese yellow
|
(Yellow?) Yeah pimp yellow
|
Fuck what the kids she can lose that other fellow
|
Pocket full of money and I'm a keep it all
|
I ain't make ya shit rain tell ya bitch to get a job
|
The boy with the X is not goin have it with the crew
|
I'm fly everyday like I run for Jet Blue
|
Yeah I step in the place with the pumper on my waist
|
The jack boys coming but my goons on the case
|
Let the V.I.P. in the middle of the party y'all
|
Neck full of chains got me looking like the Marty Grove
|
I'm in it with the street niggas chill with the hustlers
|
Got love from the hood so you bet not touch us
|
The dudes that I'm witting, yeah they the truce
|
They don't raps they troops I just bring em out to shoot
|
|
[Chorus: E-40]
|
|
[Verse 3: Laroo T.H.H.]
|
This thang yankin'
|
First, hard-headed gas through a HD board
|
Instantly transpire the bitches so therefores
|
I doin a fif fast to show up in long hair
|
Outta cable that caught in the groupie here
|
Got yank, the party ain't notice splice
|
Married to the game nigga you should throw a rice
|
Thick and thin, thin and thick
|
The direction should pick the torment how life detorse (it's fully yours)
|
T double H...
|
She want releventing real I'm the one that'cha see
|
Got us mango lick, Monty too exotic
|
They know my game persurb (what'chu do) in bomb it
|
|
[Chorus: E-40]
|
|
-----------------
|
Yankin'
|
E-40 |