$999,999 $1 = A Mealticket - E-40
[E-40] Huh? Want me to speak the real? [Kaveo] Speak the real man [E-40] Nigga speak the real Speak the real Speak the real Speak the real Speak the real It's a quarter after nine on my am fm Radio Shack digital motel six o? Clock alarm reads "40, get your ass up, time to hit the grind You can't afford to pass no money I know you heard about that" What, what? "Task raided Millersville Ms. Miller had a heart attack" Dude, that's some cold shit, ain't it huh? I know, she was a good person for certain I know V-Town, California where I was born, raised and grown And since 1979 I been a hustler on the go You know the drill, my mission for real, a mealticket You feel, we slowly but surely approachin seven digits Figurines, sticky doo-hicky and angel dust Mescaline, niggas know better than fuck with us I'm pimped out flossin in Reno in the casino Big bid, fuckin off feddie I could've put down on a crib I does that, I do, rejuvenate, redeem Take a lose, take a lose Don't make a scene Nigga charge it to the triple beam Fuck the stress I let that orange box of baking soda do the rest Holler at my neighborhood chef, Raul Known for cloning chickens and turning one into two That's what he do for a living That's all he's used to Playtex rubber dishwashing gloves and residue, Biotch!!!! [Hook:] [Kaveo] Bullshit ain't nothin You see we gone keep this thuggin And mean muggin jump until it's a done deal You see E-40 and Sick Wid It bring the real nothin but What if I bring this back down? You gots to be about it or be without it [E-40] Be about it or without it Ay, you know what? I smell you on that playboy, look We fin to run down a a whole tac on these bitch ass niggaz Niggas ain't smellin this shit We do this shit Last night I slapped a bitch upside her dome With my faulty phone That heifer's tired She tried to slash my tire Caught me in the bed with her cousin Tanji From the track She use to hold my sack I use to dick her down way back in 86 She use to look just like a skank But now that bitch got a ass, tits, body and boy that bich is bad For what it's worth, the pussy smelled like Certs Victoria's Secret Now folks just remember I never said I thought about lickin pussy I said I never thought about eatin Keepin it and treatin it nice Fuck that I'm a hog I put it down, I'm from the hood Where I live, on the outskirts And down on the tuck in the cut In Clemente Apartments man I'm a baller so you know I ain't got shit in my name I'm strictly ghetto celebrity, niggaz get buried Ready for combat if you plottin and plannin Oh if you come for me and confiscate my dough Let the buzzer be the bail But my suggestion is to stay within your envelope I'm block to block, swingin on vines Community service, put up stop signs [Hook:] [Kaveo] Uhhh!!! Hold the fuck on!! Did you or did you not tell these niggaz to stay within they envelope? Sheeit, these timers are green to the game They ain't know nothin about these tramps Six bedroom flats and gettin dealt and held a hand across the mat You see we from the Yay where we control they minds And put these hoes on the grind [E-40] Ain't got to but I still touch it Went to the Seven Eleven picked up a traders book and bought a bucket Use to have a perm bigger than the Charlotte Hornets But I had to cut that bitch off cause see your patna had warrant That I ain't even handled yet although I'm havin cake The little homie from the hood want me to put out his tape He kinda tight too, remind me of The Click crew Cause they was spittin that old high powered Godzilla ballin guru ass type shit you Can relate to, wake to, 'scape to when it's sunny Ride by, slide by, get at a honey I know these streets like I know my dick I can tell you who the nigga is that's about to get jacked And the nigga that pulled the lick I got this bitch on lock 999, 999 plus a dollar in a safe deposit box Marijuana crops still in this roster Kilogram, coca leaf and morphien What about my niggas in the 4-1-5 Look what they made My niggaz in the city They call it made Top grade regeneration, uncut Designer weed, straight hempilation, what the fuck Sheit, sheit, sheit, sheit, sheit, sheit sheit, sheit... Hell yeah, sheit!! 999, 999 plus a dollar, plus a dollar man Plus a dollar, plus a dollar man equals a mealticket bitch Biotch!!! Sheit! Sheit!
Artist: E-40
Title: $999,999 $1 = A Mealticket