E-40

E-40 - Dump Bust Blast lyrics

Your rating:

Hey Boskeezy? Hey that shit right there  I (talk to me willpalations)
 that
 shit. That's ibeen? That shit smibeen that shit ibeen? That shit
 smibeen
 ooh (ooh)
 4:15 showcasing to the max
 Got my truckamajig free racing causing anxiety attacks
 Pitch black normal tint BOOM BAP!
 Fucked around and overheated my Zues amp
 500  oh the hoes  fuck a ho
 These are the thing that, uh, you need to know
 Bust him open spin open the duct tape and the foil
 Eat the rest and get a pot and let 'em boil
 Bullet proof vest never confess keep a bucket full of acid
 1-800-888 zippers-on-tastic
 Clinetel, raise 'em high raise 'em low
 Out on bail everybody hit the floor
 Chorus:
 Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust,
 Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust (ooh!)
 Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust,
 Dump, Bust, (BEOTCH!) Blast
 Slurp slip, deep throat shit I'm outta sight
 I like to get my dick sucked in broad daylight
 Acting bad on the soil acting tough
 Break your ass down like 12-gauge Doyle bluff
 You know if, ooh, that's what they holler
 Snatch his boosty ass up by the collar
 Law enforcement agents got me and my dudes up under investigation we
 hot
 like jalapenos
 Man, how come niggas can't put their money together like Philipinos?
 I suppose, can you bring him back?
 He was one of them enemies that tried to participate in Swiss Cheezin'
 my
 clean ass Cadillac
 My Cadillac, My Pontiac I mean
 My under bucket hoopty parked on magazines
 Chorus: 2x
 Check it out (check it out)
 Third verse, let's begin lets be gone
 I done served more water than, uh, Avion
 Posted up like a thumbtack on the boulevard serving dead
 Yola, ice cream, Ben and Jerry (Jer)
 I've been doing somethings, cigars and pinky rings
 I'm a big screw up in this shit like E-40 and the Click
 Paper all up under my box spring matress choppers on top of the fridge
 Automatics in the kitchen cabinets man I kill a motherfucker over
 mathematics
 Haters gonna hate, but they don't count nigga hustle
 The dope game runs on two thing (what's that?) money and muscle
 Do some gotti, fourth of July your party
 Laid his "supposed to be so called hardest nigga in your town" ass
 down
 infront of everybody
 Chorus: (with three overdubbed tracks of random talking
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: Bosko Kante

Composer: ?

Publisher: Zomba Recording Corporation

Details:

Released in: 1998

Language: English

Share your thoughts

This form is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

0 Comments found