| The throb slap in the Ghost
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| Put your finger on the trunk, feel the pulse
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| I never leave the teepee without the toast
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| You see the liquid on my chain, I flamboast
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| When I’m higher than Pluto, I eat menudo
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| Pastel de elote, might think I’m an esé
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| I sleep with my cuete, I’ll leave your ass wete
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| Vallejo, Cali-harm-ya, 7-O-siete
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| The Good Book is my buckler and shield
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| Death could come outta nowhere, like when the rock hit your windshield
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| That’s why I always keep a rototiller
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| When I’m out there in the field in the traffic making deals
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| Every stack I get, like Kaepernick, I kneel
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| Ain’t talking about no dinner but I need a meal
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| Release my niggas down waiting for appeal
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| In a gladiator tank, sharks and eels… BIATCH!
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| And these days, gotta watch who you trust
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| Keep that pistol by my side, in this block I trust
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| I came from nothin' so I had to run it up
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| They just wanna see me fail, they don’t wanna see me up
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| And I know the Lord chose me
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| To have the vision in what most don’t see
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| I got money, started hating on me
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| Niggas that I used to love tryna stonewall me
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| And I know money bring hate but I’ma keep getting this cake
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| And no, my soul won’t change
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| Real niggas can’t relate to the fake
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| And niggas wanna see me fall, so on my momma, I’ma ball
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| I know niggas wanna see me fall, so on my momma, I’ma ball, ball
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| Off top Tommy, rollin' up a mummy
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| Thumbin' through his money, thumper by his tummy
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| Blowin' on a branch, higher than an avalanche
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| Hazy like a forest fire in a Napa Valley ranch
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| Cash flow Cliff, sippin' on a fifth
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| Spill more liquor on his shirt, got a hole in his lip
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| Sitting on some cheddar and them niggas know better
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| Semi-auto wetter fly your head like a feather
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| Honey coochie slap, smell like a Life Saver
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| Baby booty stacked like a Sunday newspaper
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| Bitch, I’m a mack, not a caped crusader
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| Captain-Save-a-Batch? |
| Nope, I check yaper
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| Money on my mind, money on my mind
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| If I do the crime, I’ma do the time
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| Never drop a dime, never drop a dime
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| Hold water on my chest, high alkaline
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| And these days, gotta watch who you trust
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| Keep that pistol by my side, in this block I trust
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| I came from nothin' so I had to run it up
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| They just wanna see me fail, they don’t wanna see me up
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| And I know the Lord chose me
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| To have the vision in what most don’t see
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| I got money, started hating on me
|
| Niggas that I used to love tryna stonewall me
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| And I know money bring hate but I’ma keep getting this cake
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| And no, my soul won’t change
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| Real niggas can’t relate to the fake
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| And niggas wanna see me fall, so on my momma, I’ma ball
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| I know niggas wanna see me fall, so on my momma, I’ma ball, ball
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| (ProHoeZak music) |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song These Days, artist - E-40. Album song The Gift of Gab, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп