E-40 - Rapper's Ball (clean) lyrics

Artist: E-40 f/ Too $hort, K-Ci Album: Rapper's Ball 12" Song: Rapper's Ball (clean) E-Feezey! Too Scheezy! Yeah we off the heezy in this beezy main Off the heezy I thought you theezy!! Hey man where your boy K-Ceeezi at main?? Ain't no tellin, ay K-Ci! Aight aight get up here and sprinkle some of these fools man Lace em up the same Playboy get up! Chorus: Say that you got it all Love the way you players ball Everyday you're at the mall Tell me is it true or false Say that you got it all Love the way you players ball Claimin that your mail is tall Tell me is it true or false Verse One: E-40, Too $hort Now I put my back end down ain't never been aside I was havin b-r-e-a-d way before this rap game fool I been tapped Thought you theezy, for sheezy, fools 'member Earl, Brat, and Denell dem boys from Vallel At every light it's automatic, BURN RUBBER See my folkers in the traffic, WHASSUP ERB Follow that cab it got yole in it My potnah $hort got some broads in it I'm always hearin rappers big ballin on they songs I live like that for real and you'll never say I'm wrong S-500 straight sittin on twenties TV in the dash dippin fast gettin money I'm Too $hort baby been down since the eighties For the last eight years I've rolled around in a Mercedes Lexus, trucks, drop that Caddy Women don't call me by my name they call me daddy Chorus Verse Two: E-40, Too $hort K-Ci $hort E-40 times are really I'll probably never have long money like Ross Perilli But sh** we just want an help Don't want the whole plate Don't put the two on the ten, don't ever perpetrate Like a lot of these fools I see on TV With the Armani Chanel Versus Versacci How come we can't be broke sometimes? Sometimes it's cool to floss But don't buy an eighty-five thousand dollar car Before you buy a house They always said I couldn't rap wit my dirty lyrics I guess they fear it, I couldn't hear it And now they wanna call me hardcore While I be steppin out the shower on a marble floor I paid the IRS taxes send FedEx and faxes This industry'll never ever see me I work hard and don't play handle mine everyday Anyway cuz I gotta stay paid 40 Chorus Verse Three: E-40, Too $hort With cold parties on big ole boats Fools up out they people, ultrafied all-inclusive trips, Montego Jamaica Front row seats at the Ultimate Fights, shamrock and severin Long expensive fuh-flights, up dere in the heavens Big ole royalty checks, humungous crib Smokin bless and drinkin Bruno on the balcony, barbecuin ribs The more scrilla, the merrier I represent the Ya area I walk from Foothill and Tray escort to Sixty-Seventh and Arthur To Freddie B's house to make tapes with my potnah Hit up Royal Park, we had tapes for sale Got a paper bag full of that, can't you tell It's funky, everybody nod they head like this I started rappin, and everybody read my lips I kept mackin, s**in up the game from the O And even though a lot of rappers got the same kind of flow I survived cuz I got mo', game than them It came straight from the b**hes, players, and pimps It was my destiny, I came the same every time So don't question me, I transfer the game in the rhymes I'm not a freestyler, don't rap for free main It's Paystyle on mine, cuz I love money main Landrovers and Toyota, Lexuses Six-hundred feet twelve with them big ol motor Mercedeses We don't be savin broads, hoes be savin us Hoe respect me in my car, baitch best to catch the bus I keep a briefcase full of game, while y'all be ear-hustlin Ain't no paperback pimp playboy, we ain't strugglin Chorus