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E-40( Earl Stevens )
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Mouthpiece
I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece
Thug wit me, who got that indo nigga mug wit me? Stick yo' pistol out the window Have a few drinks wit me, nigga get fired up Out of state dummy license plate faulty ass tags Trunk full of out door weed back seat full of garbage bags
Lookin' fo' that money train, lookin' fo' that treasure Like to fuck alot mix the business wit the pleasure What's up you timer when you gone resign Put a soul food restaurant in yo' mamas name And own your own clothing line, ain't no tellin'
That's what Harold told Melvin Back in the days of penny loafs When Teddy Pendegrass was in the blue notes A big lip street nigga was in the makin' A ferocious dangerous dude A little microscopic seed maranatin' In the fallopian tube
Ready to face the world ready to say my speech Ready to come out early feet first nigga breeched Uno uno dos tres quattro Drinkin' malt liquor out the baby bottle Five five six six seven eight
Move from the crest side to the hillside Go ahead ask the v.p.d. Betcha they tell you about me Betcha they tell you they been investigatin' My ass since '83
Betcha they say dude real Betcha they say I don't know how that nigga did it But he sittin' on a few mill
All I gotta say is nemesis Bet I know one thing betch you they know Who shot my mommas house Up that night on magazine
Should I say I wanna take a face, nah â€~Cause if the district attorney get this tape They might build a case
I'm high as fuck man inhalin' it Beatin' on my chest like Tarzan, hold it fo' ten Five lucky to be alive I only got one mo' album to do on jive, an' I'm gone
Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece
Let's go half on a forty an' a twamp sack of broccoli I got a car deville coupty So what if its primer colored so what it's a hooptie So what if the lifters tick I knwo I'm forty water
So what if I gotta get up under the engine An' tap the starter in the mourning eatin' cereal Strapped with the 223 infrared material
Who come from nothin' Who run the thirteen hundred block Who used to top have to walk the streets Floodin' wit holes in they socks
Who really real? How many know the deal? Who got they church clothed from the good will Click shit makes a muthafuckas night Niggas listen to it 'cause it's right
Money don't make me, I make money What I look like fuckin' over a broad Playboy I'm a macaroni I mean that bitch got miles on her she's a ho I mean that bitch can teach the wind how to blow
She's a pro groupie though Zulu jocka binaca The hood head knocka'
I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece
Sometimes I'm suited up, sometimes I don't care When I'm grindin' I don't brush my teeth or comb my hair When I'm timin' I like to buy drinks When I'm timin' it's louie the thirteenth
Ballers you know how we livin' You know how we meet 'em in the parking lot At Popeye's chicken I can mesmerize a hoe by jowsin Can you make a g look like ten thousand?
Where all my ghetto tycoon, beanie caps, and kangols Where all my niggas wit them federal beepers on they ankles Where all the hood-hoe dick teasers Where all my beautiful black intelligent divas
I don't need no iron I'm already creased I don't need no money I got mouthpiece
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