Funk Daddy - I'm Straight lyrics

[E-40] Sticky icky doo-hickey smokin on a spliffy mickie Think he mixin some hash with some of that Humboldt County gra** With dis sleazy from Union City, she wanted to freak me When I was sticky but we did it anyway Look, drop one or three dozen nickel-plated stapler Up under my seat, why? Robbers on my feet Uhh, cops Elroy's po-po's wanna Glock me Chops, Elroy's ran up in my car I hope none of y'all ain't in there crackin on the Presedential Under my umbrella yibbidy yackin and jaw jackin And up in there singin a capella Cause that ain't the way the GAME was designed You 'posed to see that if you BLIND Blastin, co*ked to the side, blowzin Comin up out of the chicken spot, pimp - walkin I'ms on my way to the pizznickin spot, ice - sparklin Pullin out was a n-ah-n-uh-nightmare and I be bossin Chorus: E-40 Where all my hustlers at? Where all my rugers, where all my clap-them-gats? Where all my shooters? Dude when you stay, pop collars Smoke tweed, twenty-fo' hours Where all my ballers at? Where all my timahs, shot callers at? Where all my grimies? It's heavy weight Give me the money, the p**y, the car and I'm straight [E-40] I pull up on the set - somebody died? Why all the long faces - playboy, it's dry Dry as in dry? Dry as in thirsty Cause we ain't had no work since Thursday Know you ain't believe us but I got it, who want it? By the way how y'all been survivin? Shoot we been STEPPIN on it! Uhh - cut out the middle From here on out {*cough*} no more scribble Fast quota, f** a slow nig' n***a my fetti's just as long as Ron Jeremy's dick! Eighty-one years olda, pimpin don't trip! Who you be bumpin? E-40 and The Click! Uhh, I see the heads know me in the wind(?) Family where you been? The pen, get in! Get skirrrt, vzzzzzt, bend the block What you see two crackheads steppin over, what? A rock Chorus [E-40] Gimme a, Cadillac with a black man's drank A forty ounce, the ghetto champagne The lap dance, thick-a** (?) like to bounce Take off her clothes and get bu*t-naked, Southern girl down South A record deal so I ain't gotta dope deal A faithful botch, a home-cooked meal Take, I like a (?) estate With them long-a** fifteen minute driveways with a guard at the gate Chorus 2X