Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Mail Man, artist - E-40. Date of issue: 28.09.2009
Song language: English
The Mail Man |
| Time for the payback, backpay |
| Can’t let homie live to see his birthday |
| A.K., 47 hot ones to the kidney |
| Bootsee muthafucka didn’t know what hit him |
| Went way, rode up on his ass in a Chevy |
| Baby, nigga shoulda known that shit was heavy |
| Dummy, shouldn’t have fucked off all my fuckin' fetti |
| That I gave him, spent my shit with a nigga from another city |
| Then they doubled, tripled and sold his ass some swivle |
| Little old sucker-butt nigga trust the mail man |
| Now his ass is trash like a garbage can |
| Caught up in some shit with the mailman |
| The Mailman |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| Had him duckin' every muthafuckin' thing up in the room |
| They say the youngsters run the penitentiary (I think they do) |
| They say the youngsters doin shit that you wouldn’t believe |
| They say the youngsters on the street snort hop like a muthafucka |
| (Hm-hm) Well, check this part out, brother |
| (Okay) The nigga that the mail man shot |
| Little homie went to fetch himself a brand-new Glock |
| (That's right) Wired off that hop, premeditated plot |
| I’ll park around the corner and do a walk-by |
| Reconciliation, retaliation on my mind |
| Nothin' against the Muslims, but I was raised eatin' swine |
| Trapped in the gidname since 1979 |
| My niggas on the street taught me to perk and drink wine |
| I’m young, full of cum, nuttin' to lose |
| Paid my dues, I’m settin' the rules |
| I got some clues, and I refuse |
| To let the sucker that killed my homie get away smooth |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| When I see the mail man, then his ass is doomed |
| Thinkin, tweakin, sniffin, hoppin', plottin' |
| Schemin, actin like a demon |
| My pores is stinkin' and I’m all sweaty |
| Hallucinatin', smellin' like burnt spaghetti |
| Oh no, the mail man gotta go |
| He killed my homie but he forgot that it was one mo', to go |
| So I figured that he’s after me |
| 'Til the word on the streets is that I’m after him, true |
| Now I’m waitin' for departure |
| 'Cause I’m never late on arrival |
| Grabbed the landmines, bazookas, grenades, and Tommy |
| Oh, and I can’t forget the Glock 'cause it’s the most reliable |
| Shit, fuck it, I’ma just take the Glock deep |
| I scoped out his spot, I know where he sleeps |
| Hot-wired the Thunderbird |
| I’m headed for the suburbs |
| Mobbin', doin' about a buck fifty |
| Took the third exit to another part of the city |
| Now I’m his presence, about to let him have it |
| Caught him walkin' to his car, and now he’s in a casket |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| When I see the mail man, then his ass is doomed |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| (Boom-boom!) now they gloom |
| My strap went boom |
| Had him hoppin' like a rabbit tryna touch the fuckin' moon |
| Mmm-hmm |
| Mail means money, man |
| F-l-a-m-b-o-y-a-n-t in this muthafucka |
| Mmm-hmm, the mail man |
| Ass-out jungle |
| Gotta watch your back and play it well |
| Stay away from faulty muthafuckas |
| That’s real |
| Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom! |
| (Boom-boom!) |
| Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom! |
| (Boom-boom!) |
| Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom! |
| (Boom-boom!) |
| Hoppin' like a rabbit tryna touch the fuckin' moon |
| Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom! |
| (Boom-boom!) |
| Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom! |
| (Boom-boom!) |
| Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom! |
| (Boom-boom!) |
| Now his ass is doomed |