paroles de chanson Got That Line - E-40
Niggas
want
that
old
mob
shit
back
(Take
it
back
to
that
old
school
Federal
way,
man.
Understand.)
For
all
my
mob
music
monsters
(In
a
major
way.
I'm
still
burning
duct
tape.)
Bitch!
Nigga,
this
rap
shit
slow?
I'll
be
back
selling
blow
Posted
right
there
by
the
store
Selling
narcotics
for
the
low
Niggas
think
I
fell
off?
Niggas
done
lost
they
mind
Niggas
think
since
I'm
rapping
now
I
still
got
that
line
Still
got
that
line
Still
got
that
line
Nigga
still
got
that
line
Who
got
that
line?
Who
got
that
line?
(I
still
got
it,
man.)
Nigga
still
got
that
line
Still
got
that
line
Still
got
that
line
(Who
need
it?)
Nigga
still
got
that
line
Nigga,
this
rap
shit
slow?
I'll
be
back
selling
blow
In
the
traffic,
in
the
wind
getting
money
Never
stunting
clumsy
gotta
feed
my
family
tummy
Ain't
shit
here
funny
Pull
your
ho
card,
not
a
game
motherfucker,
this
ain't
gin
rummy
It's
funky
out
here
- musty,
keep
your
guns
oiled
up,
not
rusty
Not
a
starter
pistol;
pack
something
husky,
bust
the
gusty
Sawed-off,
something
that'll
get
your
point
across
Knock
a
motherfucker
head
off;
tomato
soup,
not
chicken
broth
Promethazine,
no
cough;
six-fifty
with
a
brick
of
boat
cost
If
coke
cost
too
much
so
I'm
charging
Twenty-four,
five
for
the
margarine
I
might
bargain,
or
show
you
love
for
the
butter
Peel
your
broccoli,
give
you
a
better
price
than
your
little
plug
You
could
lose
your
life,
catch
a
fucking
slug,
plotting
on
a
balling-ass
thug
I
stay
with
the
pyro
on
me
cause
ain't
nobody
gonna
protect
me
like
me
I
don't
want
no
cowards
around
me,
big
bank,
FDIC
Nigga
think
I
fell
off?
Posted
up
front
of
that
store
With
a
hard
ass
kick
of
that
blow
(that
snow),
OG
having
his
cho
(money)
Another
word
for
cho
is
doe
(fetti),
trying
to
outsmart
the
po-po
(Five-O)
Come
looking
for
me
and
I
gotta
go
(what
you
do?),
I'm
running
through
the
store
back
door
Knocking
over
candy
and
chips,
commenced
to
hit
the
fence
It's
not
my
first
offense,
about
my
dollars
and
sense
I
like
to
trap
and
trench,
we
like
to
trench
and
trap
Everybody
with
me
don't
rap
Operation
gouda
stack,,
in
this
world
of
pain
no
patch
Pain
reliever
disbeliever,
push
Keisha,
pack
a
40-caliber
gat
Got
ho
no
more,
toe-to-toe,
don't
nobody
wanna
fight
no
more
Throw
it
all
away
over
a
ho,
never
see
the
light
no
more
Ninety-nine
plants
I
grow,
got
vegetables,
outdoor
seaweed,
spinach
I'm
not
a
save-a-ho,
I'll
break
a
ho,
don't
be
surprised
if
I
take
your
bi-nitch
Survival
tactics,
never
hustling
backwards
Throw-off
methods,
that's
why
I
wear
these
glasses
So
I
can
look
like
a
nerd,
po-po
roll
right
past
us
Savage-ass
nigga
from
the
gravel
Baller
status,
living
hella
lavish
You
can
find
me
at
the
shooting
range,
target
practice
With
a
thumper
in
my
fist
going
tactical
Shaka
Zulu
heart
built
for
battle
Free
all
of
my
real
ones
missing
summers
In
the
stew
doing
football
numbers
Caught
my
brody
with
a
K
and
some
methamphetamine
Didn't
take
the
plea
bargain,
so
they
gave
him
all
day
All
his
family
can
do
now
is
pray
Hoping
they
reduce
his
stay
Pass
the
hat
around
for
the
lawyer
pay
Get
him
out
before
he
hella
old
and
gray
One
day,
I'm
a
probably
be
a
deacon
on
the
alter
Hopefully,
I
don't
have
to
break
bad
like
Walter
Get
my
hands
dirty
again
and
push
birds
Either
that
or
that
windshield
glass
Heisenberg
Same
toilet,
different
terd,
I'll
serve
if
I'm
down
on
my
revenue
Call
the
neighborhood
chef,
Raul
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