E-40 - Dusted 'N' Disgusted lyrics

rate me

Verse One: E-40

I'm really not all that sure

Bout when things is finna mature

So let me find me a nigga with a grip

and hit his ass quick with one of them whores

(What's the definition of a lick?)

Taking a niggaz shit

(Hey put that on sumthin)

I put that on The Click, The Click

Back to fuckin work one of the homies jus got dusted

Time to do some dirt, UH!, I never trusted

them bustas shot him in the shirt, dead on arrival

Now the town is funky, it's called survival

What y'all wanna do? They got us scuffled

(bullet high, get in your eye) if this was a fifth well I be drunk

I'm heated, them niggaz cheated, played me false

We had A MEETIN, shit 'posed to been squashed

I KNOW THIS ONE BITCH THAT'LL double dribble and set 'EM up y'all

She likes the Monie in the Middle, play tetherball

Thick ass bitch, high yellow city-slicker

Scarecrow CREVICE Southern bitches, aka Posie Pussyfictious

Verse Two: Spice-1

Nigga been holdin guts, but shit on hisself and a funky bill

Pullin out bills, frontin on material shit

that's when I get to killin shit (killin shit)

And settin 'im up and havin 'im catchin a couple of slugs

Sl-uh sl-uh slugs, trynta fuck with savage thug

Pistol pop in they ass, see niggaz be gettin this twisted

It's that bitch that killed ya

Took all your money peeled ya

Seven niggaz bust in the room with AK's

while a nigga be puttin on his jimmy

All of a sudden they shoot up your Vuitton

before you can hit the broccoli

See money-a-made that nigga, that nigga didn't make that money

Left them niggaz jacked up, and the bitch she macked him

He's a busta, punk ass nigga, y'all know the streets

That's why that nigga naked layin dead in between some bloody sheets

It's just a part of the game he didn't feel

Bitches will kill, fuck a nigga, out his last d-uh dollar bill

You don't know that hoe main that bitch can't be trusted

Dusted and di-motherfuckin-sgusted

Chorus: E-40

It's some cold hearted shit

Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted

Whacha'll wanna do, whacha'll wanna do

Cold hearted bitches

Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted

Whacha'll wanna do, I never trusted them bustas

Some cold hearted shit

Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted

I never trusted them bustas

And it's them cold hearted NIGGAS

Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted

Dusted and disgusted

Verse Three: E-40, 2Pac

Let's let of some 203's on the other side of t-uh-town

Draw the attention on the other s-uh-side of town (other side of town)

And wait for the po-po shift to change, ghetto shootin range

Revenge on the r-uh-rebound, war games

Droughts, OUCH, lost clientele but I will prevail

by sellin the broccoli dank instead of the crack cocaine

try not to steal narcotics

When these punk MC's and bitches be the reason why

the smoke be comin up out the chow, with my nigga Pac

Dear God, can you forgive me? My future's lookin sick

I'm in my rag hittin switches I'm suspicious of this bitch

I keep on, callin, but ain't nobody pickin up

I think she's stallin, this evil bitch is tryin ta set me up

Came all alone if it's on then it's on

BUST my motherfuckin chrome, ON THESE jealous niggaz DOME

It's a war zone (war zone) but I'm a man so with gun in hand

I'm on my way to see this hoe you know the fuckin plan

Can't understand, but the things ain't the same

You could die over these bitches if you slippin in the game

Niggaz gang bang, but bitches gang bang too

Give up that good thang, and put that pistol to your brain

If you was smart figure, don't have no love in your heart nigga

Any complications pull the trigger, dusted and disgusted

Bitches can't be trusted, you know the rules

They underhanded, she planned it, you fuckin fool

(These hoes out here tryin to hold a nigga's heart

So a nigga get his MOTHERFUCKIN

BALLS TO THE WALL)

Hey be proud of it when you turn these bitches upside down

What's gonna happen

(Uhh, three and a half dollars or probably fo' if

a bitch ridin)

(Yeah main, them hoes talented

They be fuckin with mo' MC's THAN Jack the Rapper)

(Aight fuck it, what you say Mall?

Ay, fuck them sheisty ass bootches, nigga)

Verse Four: Mac Mall, Spice-1, E-40

The California lifestyle that I live

Where the bitches is crooked and niggaz jus don't give

A flyin fuck, so I stay stuck, smokin on the tay-low

Bay Area playa, tryin ta have shit major

And a bitch won't save ya

so I ain't playin Captain Save a Hoe

I mob up in ya like a pro and then I'm gone

I'm like Sylvester Stallone, everyday is like a Cliffhanger

Action packed, I let the mini-mac smack that ass

Them hoes jacked that ass

Nigga woulda got smokin on that hash

Can't have my cash, better go and take your nigga stash

Cuz he's a busta, niggaz with clusters

Slippin in shit, betta jack that nigga 'fore I jack his ass bitch

Never was no love for the mark-ass, the lo pink (the lo pink)

You love them Bootsy bitches, can't let them pussy bitches

gank that ass, betta hide your cash and check OR PASS

Pump your brakes nigga, slow your roll don't go too fast

Cause bulletproof ain't doin no good no mo' no mo' no mo' no mo'

now, niggaz comin up dead with they brains blew out on the fuckin floor

damn, HELLA FORCE TO THE FACE teflons to the vest

Now r-uh-rest

Pull a plug on a flatline NO P-uh-ULSE, one nigga less

One nigga less, from coast to coast, to the East to the West

Crushin the flesh, dem bitches played a game of death

Look over your shoulder watch your back don't even trust it

I'm tryin to told ya end up dusted

Chorus