| I don’t be slackin in my mackin, I be doin it in a player fashion
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| Makin it happen, speakers slappin, scootin and skatin and Cadillac’n
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| I be, representin my region and pullin up in somethin decent
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| Used to buy shit off the lot, but now lately I’ve been leasin
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| Like the white man I’ve been thinkin, tryin to come up with a plan
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| How to spend this dope money, buy some houses and some land
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| Tryin to teach you niggas somethin, tryin to lace you like a shoe
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| Buy a couple of fixer-uppers pimpin it ain’t gotta be brand new
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| I’m a boss about my shit, about the way I carry it
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| The way I wear my glasses low, the way I sport my toothpick
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| The way I pop it at a ho, the way I utilize my mouth
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| The way I keep my fuckin blowover over at a relative’s house
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| Beware of yo' surroundings, gotta handpick yo' cronies
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| Gotta be about your allowance, and X out all the phonies
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| Gotta watch out for them folks, gotta watch yo' conversations
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| Gotta be careful on the phones cause them folks might be taping
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| (Aww shit, talk in pig latin, use the codes)
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| They might be taping
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| (Aww man, you think they taping?)
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| Gotta be careful on the phones cause them folks might be taping
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| (Aww shit, they readin lips, cover your nose)
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| They might be taping
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| (Naw man, you think they taping?)
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| Gotta be careful on the phones cause them folks might be taping
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| 40 an ounce of space, ain’t even had time to wash my face
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| I been in the traffic tryin to get it, I ain’t got time to fuckin waste
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| My money’s short like I’m slippin, I’m tryin to smack it up and flip it
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| I’m tryin to turn this thousand dollars into a quarter of a mill' ticket
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| Some of you suckers be lyin to kick it, but that ain’t the fuckin way
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| Niggas be sellin mo' wolf tickets than fake autographs on eBay
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| My orangutangs’ll growl, with our upside down smile
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| We been doin it for a while, you can check my d-boy file
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| I be fuckin 'em up like this man, I be killin 'em off like that
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| Divin up in them hoes mayne and treatin them hoes like rats
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| Niggas don’t really know that I’m so sincere about this here
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| Niggas don’t really know that I got my name from drinkin beer
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| Do a cauliflowered ear, me and my muskateers
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| Come through with them choppers, let the lil' homey steer
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| I like to dress up in my Dockers, camouflage my real career
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| But I’m really packin woppers, pistols rusty like Pam Grier
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| «Taping, taping, taping-taping-taping»
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| They might be taping
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| «Taping, taping, taping-taping-taping»
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| Gotta be careful on the phones cause them folks might be taping
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| I wish a motherfucker would, I’m still livin my second childhood
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| My mentality, my frame of mind, all hood
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| I’m in the local booth with my nine, breakin down a backwood
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| Sippin on 40, drink cloud nine, try to get it while it’s good
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| In the heart of the soil, in the middle of the paint, where it ain’t
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| Where we park our cars on the grass, sell hop and push crank
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| Where the dopefiends dig in our tracks and siphon gas from our tanks
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| Where the biggest hypocrites in the church call themselves saints
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| I don’t gossip like bitches I mind my own fuckin business
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| Dig yaper good money cause that sucker shit ain’t nutritious
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| I don’t be burnin no bridges I’m a loyalist 'bout my riches
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| Gumbo pots boil, good with the skillet like a chemist
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| Steady long like a female weave, cooler than antifreeze
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| Bust you in the toe like Eddie Murphy did DeLouise
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| Act like you know what I represent, bitch please
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| That powdered milk section 8 and that government cheese, ho! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song They Might Be Taping , by - E-40. Song from the album My Ghetto Report Card, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп