E-40

E-40 - Quarterbackin' (DJ Quick Remix) lyrics

rate me

(feat. Clipse)

[Intro]

[Malice] E-40 and the Clipse, yeah

[E-40] [cut and scratch "The Quarterback"]

[Verse 1 - Malice]

Tell the cops don't read into it, them days of slangin

Yay been finished, them days have been done ended

So far gone them days that I'm offended

Snitches can't speak my name till they get winded

Can't you tell there's been a switch made?

Now fellas decide, that they wanna run and tell like in the 5th grade

But I'm too gone, young'n be clear

Even when you see me, I am not really there

And I ain't play fair, wit my eye on the enemy

Huggin the block just me and my mini-me

Did it and lived it, grinded here

Cops feelin where my crotch at, find it yeah

Not only was I in the game I was gifted in it

Served food to the fiends and we called them dinners

Put the raw wit the fakeout, mixed it in it

Can't explain it, cats hustle guess it just was in us, Malicious

[Chorus - E-40]

If you got the turn cracking and ya money's stackin'

Ya, quarterbackin', quarterbackin'

Leader of the squad and you're the team captain

Ya, quarterbackin', quarterbackin'

Got a little change and you're driving a Range

Ya, quarterbackin', quarterbackin'

If you're sound system bangs and you're pushin them thangs

Ya, quarterbackin', quarterbackin'

[Verse 2 - E-40]

Might not know what I'm talking about, if you ain't never lived it

I see you'd a done it, see fiends vomit

Green stuff I had to clean it up wit Comet

Mean stuff, so many deaths my streets is haunted

Believe us, you shoulda seen us

Like Wild E. Coyote make super genius

Gets a lots like Serena and Venus

I only had a couple jobs in my life

But not too many thought I was grown

Who woulda thought I'd sell my scale for a microphone

And be rapping about it up in this song, sliding on some chrome

Uh, this long money I earn, I'm bald-headed

But I used to have a Lord Jesus perm (Lord Jesus perm)

When my name was Earl, before the rap game

Running from Secret Squirrel, I had my own thang

I was raised by wolves, hyenas and barracudas, gorillas and bulls, uh

[Chorus]

[Verse 3 - Pusha T]

I play the field like Vick, from endzone to endzone

Serve that ish like snow cones in the hood

And trench in the gutter, I was lost to the good

Cause I make gat stutta, like an O.G. should

Mama's lookin', so mistooken

Night's in the kitchen, thought I never finish cookin'

Way before, paid for this here that I'm mouthin'

Nineteen years young, upward of eighty-thousand

Trust me young'n, Pusha was never browsin' for nothing

Section 8, housing; I'm stomping through like King Kong

Claiming his home his jungle

Mumblers beware the hood hate singers

I connect block to corner like Jenga

Fall never, you seen em

Posting in ya hood, leaning fiends like the Tower of Piza

Damn he's good

[Chorus x2]

[Outro - E-40]

Uh! Now of course ya know I ain't talking about sports

(The Quarterback) I'm talking bout runnin' some shit

I'm taking about orchestrating and illustrating

And glorifying yo paper route

Getting out there hustling, grittin and grindin

Doing yo thug thizzle, magigledale

Quarterbackin man, hustlin' mayne

Trust that manye, yeah in real life mayne

Some call it pitchin', some call it grindin'

We call it quarterbackin'

Yeah and I ain't talking about sports

Trust that, oooh-ah

[cut and scratch "The Quarterback"] [Til fade]

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