Rick Rock Horns

[Verse 1: E-40] I need mine, quick fast in a hurry, pronto Sucker run up and get a three-piece combo Northern California, from the slums of the V Where a dopefiend'll kill ya for a balloon of Khadafi I'm on a special sauce right now, I'm oiled up, I'm turnt Drankin, blankin, weeded, burnt Bumpin my favorite rapper, go by the name of E-4-O He was sayin shit 20 years ago y'all niggas just now though It's over they head like a flying saucer, some of these suckers lost Never had close encounters with the streets or the cops My watch and my batteries, my rims and my tyres My (?) regulator, starter and my amplifier Old school sidin on them though Memphis mojo, adio, hoe Woofers, tweeters, horns, slaps Hookers, heaters, warrants, traps [Chorus: Marty James] I ain't gettin fed up tryin get this bread up Ain't nobody fuckin with me Come from Vallejo, pimps pushin tail Triple beam scales got keys I know fools bark 'bout what they got But I'm really feedin these streets Drug, smack, meth, pills, trees Show me what you need [Verse 2: E-40] I just got off the phone with my pimp partner, he pimp hoes Say he don't want no black girls, he want some pink toes Some pink toes? Yeah, some white girls, mayne They easy to manipulate, persuade and play with they fuckin brain I said, "Man you a fool, why you do like that?" He was like, "Feezy you know I'm about them dollars, mayne, I'm a mack" I gotta admit, ever since I known him he kept a bad batch A stable of hoes, kinda like those in a pocket full of snacks Man, we some Bay boys, till we dead and gone We like to talk slick and sly like the Family Stone Little one-dollarnaires with big dreams in our eyes Waitin for things to mature, waitin for things to materialize I know some niggas that been shot in the head - and lived I know some niggas that been shot in the leg - and died I know some folks, they got they top split like a bagel For snitchin and rollin over and tellin on folks like (?) [Chorus: Marty James] I was born to sell, never snitch and tell I keep stackin my cheese Got folks up in jail, hell with no bail The judge threw away them keys Now I know fools bark 'bout what they got But I'm really feedin these streets Chip phones, laptops, bootleg DVD's Just tell me what you need [Verse 3: E-40] Gotta go pick up my folks from the Greyhound station, he 33 Said he ain't had pussy since pussy had he He went in when he was a baby, fresh out of Tehachapi Started off in juvy, ended up in the penitentiary Solid to the core, solidified, y'all Say, "40 they love you, mayne, your name good behind them walls" I said, "'preciate it, felly, I'm just tryina play my part Stick to the rules and regulations the way that I was taught" California raised a pit, not a (?) or a chihuahua Might do it or might send it, bust your head like a piñada If you start it I'ma end it, I got the money and the power It's paid for, not rented, same color as clam chowder I got my right hand on my chest like I pledge allegiance Tweekin and trippin on how fast my heart is beatin Sour diesel chokin and smokin and blowin and puffin all day, my son Loved one, I'm loaded like a shotgun [Chorus: Marty James] Got goons on the corner, all through California You know 40 Water runs deep Half desperation, half determination Hustlin is made of these Now I know fools bark 'bout what they got But I'm really up in these streets Spit real game - take heed Just tell us what you need