Turf Talk - Sick Wid It II lyrics

[Turf Talk] + (E-40) Damn n***a, ay where Mikey at mayne? Ay, ay Droop-E, Droop-E! You old enough to drink n***a? Wha**up cousin? (Wha**up 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 sh** that need to be said big cousin (Talk to me, I'll talk back) First of all I'mma start by just sayin we can't be f**ed with And you know it!!! (Ooooh) Got all the whole hood in this motherf**er (the whole soil) Sick Wid It n***a (now) been runnin this sh** [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-a** 40, what that do? Sometimes me, always you Man you a real-a** n***a, man you a boss If I had yo' hand I woulda been done cut mine off A cult following, hustlers they love me k** 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 n***a don't help me, my n***a help the mountain lion! Uhh, chalupas, revenues, yaper, 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 motherf**ers know! n***a this is big 40-Water motherf**er! The amba**ador of the Bay n***a! n***a we stay eatin over here motherf**er! You n***as need to step your motherf**in weight up n***a Sick Wid It, BME motherf**er [E-40] Look out pimp! Hit me on my chirp, I got that work f** 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-a** 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 an*s, 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 n***as'll get your motherf**in head knocked off f**in with us boy n***a we been doin this sh** n***a n***as need to bow the f** down and pay homage n***a n***as been stealin our sh** for years 40! n***as afraid to talk around these motherf**ers, WATER! [E-40] The whole enchilada, the whole taco Motherf**er I'm a capo! Play with hundred round drums Me and my u-salaam(?) A stingy n***a, watch every penny that I spend Go to any hood in the world and fit right in A young n***a, with an old soul A busy n***a, 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 j**eler, 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 motherf**er 40 told you n***as mayne! We hongry n***a! We eat soup with a fork around this b**h mayne! Knahmean? Step your motherf**in weight up n***a You n***as pockets is touchin motherf**er You starvin! {*laughter*}