Текст песни: E-40 f Too $hort - Charlie Hustle: Blueprint of a Self-Made

[Too $hort]
Earl.. whassup mayne?
It`s yo` potnah Short Dawg
You know we come a long way baby
+From the Ground Up+
Oh they love the way us players ball
No doubt, that`s how we do this
It`s all about you mayne
It`s yo` life, let `em know somethin

[E-40]
I come from where they pop they collars
and couldn`t be saved by Creflo Dollar
Cause I`ll probably never ever see the pearly gates
At the rate I`m goin now, it`ll be too late
Take life taste it, get on and smell it
You know what Charlie is? Well it`s sucker repellant
I spray myself with it every morning, you dig?
I spray myself right before I leave the crib
Hot ones echo through the ghetto, bullets ricochet
I`m bendin corners in my Cadillac Escalade
It`s summertime and I`m scorchin, fuck a bulletproof
I`m hella keyed and I`m perkin off that num-num juice
I`m in the traffic with my music on STORM
Got a ticket just for blowin my, HORN (ba-baaa, ba-ba-ba-baa-baaaa)
The real, pinkie ring, princess cut
Carats on, around my neck
Lookin like some clones, be at yo` best
We don`t play checkers no more, we play chess
One trey tri trey double (??)
H-I-double-L sideshow
All about my fetti-oh
One-time want to see me fold
It`s ob-vious I`m humungous
Acres cars and businesses
All about my fetti-oh
Bank account got to be tall
Diamonds on my wrists and shit
Tycoon stickin to the script, BEOTCH!

Chorus: {sung}

Earl, that`s yo` life
Ooohhhhh Earl, that`s yo` life
Earl, that`s yo` life
Ooohhhhh Earl, that`s yo` liii-iiii-iiii-iiii-iife

[E-40]
Straight up out the game
The realest nigga you done talked to all day
It`s a +Drought Season+, +Out Smart the Po-Po`s+
Cookin birdies in the kitchen, with C-Bo
From livin nappy, e`rybody know me
Used to sell taffy, white girl nasal candy
Hoes`ll dress tacky, just so I can bank they dome
Bank `em make them think I`m broke,
use the dope game as a steppin stone
(??) (??) next steal walkie talkies
I`m the one that really-natin them faulty chips
I got the gift of gab, I`m off the choo choo track
I want the fetti, fuck the fame, y`all can HAVE THAT
One-time want to see me fold
It`s ob-vious I`m humungous
[$hort] That`s right
Acres cars and businesses
[$hort] You can`t stop the tycoon
All about my fetti-oh
Bank account got to be tall
Diamonds on my wrists and shit
[$hort] You can`t stop E-Feezy, BEYATCH

Chorus

[E-40]
The street life, +Ballin Outta Control+
My +Million Dollar Spot+, way too cold
So many +Record Haters+, my +Back Against the Wall+
When I was growin up I seen a lot of +Rappers Ball+
+Bring the Yellow Tape+, +It`s On, On Sight+
You wanna squash the funk? Shoot me a peace kite
Where the party at? Who got that Carlos Rossi?
Who in my +Drinkin` Club+? Fire up some broccoli
I`m +Fed Ex+`n, heavy duty nigga, pushin weight
From sardines and spam to teriyaki steak
I looked the game in the eye, the game looked at me back
Told me to sell my triple beam, and start rap
One-time want to see me fold
It`s ob-vious I`m humungous
Acres cars and businesses
All about my fetti-oh
Bank account got to be tall
Diamonds on my wrists and shit
Tycoon stickin to the script, BEOTCH!

Chorus

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[Too $hort]
Earl.. whassup mayne?
It`s yo` potnah Short Dawg
You know we come a long way baby
+From the Ground Up+
Oh they love the way us players ball
No doubt, that`s how we do this
It`s all about you mayne
It`s yo` life, let `em know somethin

[E-40]
I come from where they pop they collars
and couldn`t be saved by Creflo Dollar
Cause I`ll probably never ever see the pearly gates
At the rate I`m goin now, it`ll be too late
Take life taste it, get on and smell it
You know what Charlie is? Well it`s sucker repellant
I spray myself with it every morning, you dig?
I spray myself right before I leave the crib
Hot ones echo through the ghetto, bullets ricochet
I`m bendin corners in my Cadillac Escalade
It`s summertime and I`m scorchin, fuck a bulletproof
I`m hella keyed and I`m perkin off that num-num juice
I`m in the traffic with my music on STORM
Got a ticket just for blowin my, HORN (ba-baaa, ba-ba-ba-baa-baaaa)
The real, pinkie ring, princess cut
Carats on, around my neck
Lookin like some clones, be at yo` best
We don`t play checkers no more, we play chess
One trey tri trey double (??)
H-I-double-L sideshow
All about my fetti-oh
One-time want to see me fold
It`s ob-vious I`m humungous
Acres cars and businesses
All about my fetti-oh
Bank account got to be tall
Diamonds on my wrists and shit
Tycoon stickin to the script, BEOTCH!

Chorus: {sung}

Earl, that`s yo` life
Ooohhhhh Earl, that`s yo` life
Earl, that`s yo` life
Ooohhhhh Earl, that`s yo` liii-iiii-iiii-iiii-iife

[E-40]
Straight up out the game
The realest nigga you done talked to all day
It`s a +Drought Season+, +Out Smart the Po-Po`s+
Cookin birdies in the kitchen, with C-Bo
From livin nappy, e`rybody know me
Used to sell taffy, white girl nasal candy
Hoes`ll dress tacky, just so I can bank they dome
Bank `em make them think I`m broke,
use the dope game as a steppin stone
(??) (??) next steal walkie talkies
I`m the one that really-natin them faulty chips
I got the gift of gab, I`m off the choo choo track
I want the fetti, fuck the fame, y`all can HAVE THAT
One-time want to see me fold
It`s ob-vious I`m humungous
[$hort] That`s right
Acres cars and businesses
[$hort] You can`t stop the tycoon
All about my fetti-oh
Bank account got to be tall
Diamonds on my wrists and shit
[$hort] You can`t stop E-Feezy, BEYATCH

Chorus

[E-40]
The street life, +Ballin Outta Control+
My +Million Dollar Spot+, way too cold
So many +Record Haters+, my +Back Against the Wall+
When I was growin up I seen a lot of +Rappers Ball+
+Bring the Yellow Tape+, +It`s On, On Sight+
You wanna squash the funk? Shoot me a peace kite
Where the party at? Who got that Carlos Rossi?
Who in my +Drinkin` Club+? Fire up some broccoli
I`m +Fed Ex+`n, heavy duty nigga, pushin weight
From sardines and spam to teriyaki steak
I looked the game in the eye, the game looked at me back
Told me to sell my triple beam, and start rap
One-time want to see me fold
It`s ob-vious I`m humungous
Acres cars and businesses
All about my fetti-oh
Bank account got to be tall
Diamonds on my wrists and shit
Tycoon stickin to the script, BEOTCH!

Chorus

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Еще тексты песен: E-40 f Too $hort