Mo' Mail

Ah, f**k it Ah, y'all got your nigga E-40 in this motherf**ker I buzz, I put a step in kickin' it in the Fac house, motherf**ker Ay, G-Nut, Spice, Xtra-Large Let 'em have it Went out the house, I think it was a Sunday Nigga was runnin' with drop top drop, havin' a fun day Kickin' it with my niggas up on the block Talkin' shit, drinkin' 'Crooked Eye' I got the fat head rush from the chocolate Thai I'm feelin' good, I wanna kick it and hang out But when the drive-by hit, this is the main route What the f**k is my problem nigga? I got a glock, seventeen better gobble them So, why should I trip, load the clip, put the joint to my lip Get the motherf**kin' forty take a real a*s nigga hit I'm sittin' on my gat thinkin', shit is cool Some niggaz roll up in an old school I ain't trippin', ay, you know this nigga's face I heard the motherf**kin' ba*s Of a sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump Musty dead bodies and a catty bump, trump Smellin' up the neighborhood, lyin' in the bushes Somebody had mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Yeah, I'm just a hustler Yeah, I'm just a hustler Yeah, I'm just a hustler Spice 1, you know some hoes gonna go, boy Look here, ay look, here They got schemes and scandals out there right? When that funk is on, this here Check fan, the motherf**ker gotta be about As greasy as gravy in order to maintain So, society is a motherf**ker, ain't it? Ay, whatta 'bout those niggas on your d**k nigga? Ice spit some shit about that shit, nigga Get off my d**k, nigga, get your own motherf**kers Steady mobbin' gaffle the motherf**kers 'cause my jobbing Shootin' up motherf**kers was my hobby Stop the tech-eleven on two-eleven, I did a robbery Shot the mothef**ker, is grenades that I'll be livin' Lowin' the motherf**kers like a new pair of Levi's and Used to think the cops were so motherf**kin' friendly Till they tied my cousin to a chair and broke his chin My homies motherf**kin' head like a melon Slavery is [Unverified] of convicted felon So, dear Mr. Officer of the motherf**kin' law Rodney Kind don't need a trial, what was seen was what was saw You could take the niggas up out the motherf**kin' ghetto But you can't take the ghetto up out the motherf**kin' niggas Can't you hear the voice of the niggas comin' at cha? f**k you Mr. President, I think I wanna gat ya I need mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the piles I can't get enough, good, good Good shit, motherf**ker, good shit I think, I'm a little jet drunk motherf**k Ay, look here, ay, I'm off this Liquorice Rainall, boy You understand that don't ya? Huh, you feel it Ay, ay look here nigga, ay What I want you to do, boy, drop that ill shit I'll make this gat sing like motherf**kin' Mary J. Blige And reminisce on havin' a nigga's last breath when he slowly die Stang his a*s in the chest with the hollow Capped him in his thr-thr-throat, so he can't swallow R-a-rat, t-a-tat put a buck in y'all The motherf**kin' six-foot chucky dog Comin' to play with the trigger of the AK Another real a*s nigga from the East Bay [Unverified] For the niggas who kid yourself by losin' your f**kin' death Bloaw, bloaw, cap, we do it just like that Quick to put a motherf**ker brains in his lap Smokin' up a blunt as I reminisce Of bloody body bags a motherf**ker going nutty Bloaw, boaw, Po' bust a knowledge route Brown, notify his family, f**k it, send his fingers home 'Cause the shit get major, put the [Unverified] Number upon his pager Bitch, don't f**k with me I know a gang of niggas that will shoot it up with me I need mo' mail than the rest of the pushers It's the S P I C E with ya, nigga, E-40 (Erick Sermon) Roll in to the curb and die These motherf**kers don't understand this shit, boy This shit is so damn real, man Ay, nineteen ninety-tre-four-five Ay, I got one of them Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers