paroles de chanson Growing Up - E-40
I'm
a
little
mannish
motherfucker
I
take
after
my
older
brother
Started
off
selling
marijuana,
but
now
I'm
selling
yola
Here
take
a
swig
of
this
bourbon
[Incomprehensible]
Hit
that,
hit
that,
baby
Aight
dude,
aye
who
who's
foolin'
right
there?
Who
dat?
Aight
nigga,
aye,
get
down
nigga
Aye
nigga,
get
down
nigga
Aye
nigga,
get
down
nigga
Shit!
Wuh,
we
about
seventy-five
extra
mail
mannish
Hard-headed
hoodlum-ass
niggaz
On
the
dope
track
workin'
overtime
full
of
fuckin
'D'
Runnin'
through
somewhere
in
the
neighborhood
Of
about
seven-hundred
thousand
in
illegal
narcotics
Generatin'
through
mah
street,
a
week
Why
motherfuckers
gotta
ask
me
how
I'm
doin'
if
I'm
alright?
When
a
motherfucker's
starvin'
and
strugglin'
Even
on
my
hip
pretty
much
needlin'
and
jugglin'
There
still
ain't
gonna
never
be
enough
lovin'
I'm
tired
of
rippin'
and
runnin',
dodgin'
and
duckin'
bullets
I
know
my
time
is
comin',
death
is
on
me
bad
The
walls
is
closin'
in,
I
wish
I
had
a
dad
But
left
when
I
was
ten,
so
mom's
is
all
I
had
And
she
was
there
for
me
until
I
ran
away
from
the
pad
And
now
she
disowned
me
and
she
don't
claim
me
Reverend
wouldja
put
some
blessin'
oil
on
my
head
Before
I
end
up
dead,
gall
bladder
full
of
lead,
scared
I
guess
a
hard-head
make
a
soft-ass
I
ain't
gon'
last
if
I
keep
fuckin'
with
this
fast
life
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him,
uh
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him,
uh
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him
Ah,
I
page
my
ties
even
though
the
money's
filthy
Don't
wanna
go
to
church,
because
I
feel
guilty
Nope,
I
don't
wanna
die
'cause
when
the
preacher
preach
the
Gospel
I
be
ready
to
cry
up
in
the
Church
of
Pentecostal
I
don't
think
I'ma
make
it
to
see
twenty-five
'Til
I
wash
my
hands
and
come
clean
Shit,
I'll
be
hella
happy
if
I
can
just
live
to
see
sixteen
No
life
to
give
for
that
nastiness
As
a
rebellious
disobedient-ass
problem
child
He's
easily
influenced,
hangin'
around
the
wrong
crowd
I'm
willin'
to
do
almost
anything
Whatever
it
takes
to
make
my
allowance
I'm
on
prescription
medication,
chemically
off-balance
Got
me
snatchin'
up
[Incomprehensible],
pickin'
up
hits
Pick-pickin'
indo's
and
pullin'
licks
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him,
uh
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him,
uh
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him
But
daddy?
Yes
son
Tie
my
shoes
Okay
Lace
me
up,
hook
me
up
Like
a
tow-track,
man
Aight
Ear-hustlin',
make
like
a
pampered
suck-up
game-a-saur
What?
When
it
comes
to
this
thang
man
I'm
connoisseur
Connoisseur
I
read
through
the
punk
registry
in
the
robb
report
What?
I
come
off
like
dat
Grew
up
around
slick
talkers
A
po-po-poppin'
con
artists
What?
Go
straight
to
the
[Incomprehensible]
and
get
a
bad
leather
jacket
Boy
you
[Incomprehensible]
bankrupt
Like
you
when
I
was
younger
But
I
got
my
life
together
and
I
bettered
myself
as
I
got
older
Na-uh,
now
I
entertain,
a
sss-uh,
a-smeb
rover
Street
smarts
with
a
degree
and
a
diploma
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him,
uh
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him,
uh
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him,
uh
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him,
uh
He
would
grow
up
to
be
nothin'
but
a
hoodlum
Or
either
in
jail,
or
someone
would
shoot
him
Ah,
give
it
to
me,
uhh
Uhh
uhh
Come
on,
uhh
Give
it
to
me,
uhh
Album
Tha Hall of Game
1 Record Haters
2 Rapper's Ball
3 Growing Up
4 Million Dollar Spot
5 Million Dollar Spot (feat. 2Pac & B-Legit)
6 Mack Minister
7 I Wanna Thank You
8 The Story
9 My Drinking Club
10 My Drinking Club
11 Ring It
12 Ring It
13 Pimp Talk
14 Keep Pimpin'
15 I Like What You Do to Me
16 Things'll Never Change
17 Things'll Never Change
18 It Is What It Is
19 Smebbin'
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