Turf Talk

Turf Talk - Sick Wid It II songtekst

Je score:

(feat. E-40) 



[Turf Talk + (E-40)] 

Damn nigga, ay where Mikey at mayne? 

Ay, ay Droop-E, Droop-E! You old enough to drink nigga? 

Whassup cousin? (Whassup tycoon, what's goin on?) 

It's your young nephew Turkey mayne 

(What is it boy? What's goin on family?) 

There's a lot of shit that need to be said big cousin 

(Talk to me, I'll talk back) 

First of all I'ma start by just sayin we can't be fucked with 

And you know it!!! (Ooooh) 

Got all the whole hood in this motherfucker (the whole soil) 

Sick Wid It nigga (now) been runnin this shit 



[E-40] 

Look out pimp! 

Oyster Perpetual, cushion cut bezel 

I'm busy I ain't even had time to eat a fortune cookie 

Since I signed with BME every promoter 

and every agency in the industry been tryin to book me 

Mackin-ass 40, what that do? 

Sometimes me, always you 

Man you a real-ass nigga, man you a boss 

If I had yo' hand I woulda been done cut mine off 

A cult following, hustlers they love me 

Kill a tree and put a rock in the hospital over me 

If you see me up in the mountains with a lion, I ain't lyin 

Nigga don't help me, my nigga help the mountain lion! 

Uhh, chalupas {?} thousand dollar stacks 

Turn a couple of ki's into a couple hundred racks 

The main drag, the soil, the blacktop 

The gravel, the D-spot, we open like IHOP 



[Turf Talk] 

Yea mayne! These motherfuckers know! 

Nigga this is big 40-Water motherfucker! 

The ambassador of the Bay nigga! 

Nigga we stay eatin over here motherfucker! 

You niggaz need to step your motherfuckin weight up nigga 

Sick Wid It, BME motherfucker 



[E-40] 

Look out pimp! 

Hit me on my chirp, I got that work 

Fuck e'rybody else, I got myself on my shirt 

Better hurry up and come and get 'em we got the lowest rates 

I'm tellin you pimpin cause they goin like hotcakes 

Cops come and spoil it we flushin it down the toilet 

Throw it in the battery acid and then destroy it 

Pay attention and learn, while I teach you how to grit and grind 

Fifteen five? All the time (cool) 

These square-ass rappers, they get a few bucks 

Then they, lose contact get out of touch 

With the, with the streets, we stick to the turf like cleets 

Off the leash, we thirsty we hungry we beasts 

Look out, watch out, here come the jumpout 

Hide your dope in your anus, and put the weed out 

'Fore they beat us and choke us and take our funds 

And shoot us with them tazer guns 



[Turf Talk] 

You niggaz'll get your motherfuckin head knocked off fuckin with us boy 

Nigga we been doin this shit nigga 

Niggaz need to bow the fuck down and pay homage nigga 

Niggaz been stealin our shit for years 40! 

Niggaz brave to talk around these motherfuckers, WATER! 



[E-40] 

The whole enchilada, the whole taco 

Motherfucker I'm a capo! 

Play with hundred round drums 

Me and my u-salaam(?) 

A stingy nigga, watch every penny that I spend 

Go to any hood in the world and fit right in 

A young nigga, with an old soul 

A busy nigga, put the President on hold 

Ride Vogues, 26 inch toes 

Got the inside of the laws smokin like broke stogs 

You can find me in the mall, buyin up all the clothes 

Or in A-T-L or Club 112, throwin them 'bows 

Left and right arms froze, cold like the ice from the cooler 

Just left the jeweler, rose gold, Frank Mueller 

I smoke big, growin weed in my garage 

Police roll up, I got a cannabis card 



[Turf Talk] 

Wait wait wait! Money.. power and respect motherfucker 

40 told you niggaz mayne! We hongry nigga! 

We eat soup with a fork around this bitch mayne! 

Knahmean? Step your motherfuckin weight up nigga 

You niggaz pockets is touchin motherfucker 

You starvin! [laughter]
Vind dit lied op:
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amazon.com

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Taal: Engels

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