| Lyrics: | (E-40 and son talking)
(E-40)
Why was I born in these trifling ass times?
Why is it
mandatory that I carry knives?
Don't be to civil cuz even white folks get jacked to
Doctors,
high class lawyers and even Japs too
You ask me why I speak the real the way I feel
How come
we call bitches hoes and you call us nigeros?
They want to do me like they did Stacks
What
is this young black man doing with all that scratch? huh
I see some timahs on the yayo track
readin they mail
Talking bout "I got white girl for sale"
But they ain't talking to me cuz
I'm an oldie and they knows that
I used to be just like them I tell them "y'all get that
scratch"
Magazine was never nothing like Bel Air
High speed shot outs and shit but I loved
it there
40 where you've been playa, it's been a while?
Marinatin' accumulating paper
pal
Y'all kind of doin it huh, you still grindin?
Hell yeah, you know them tapes you keep
rewinding
Money ain't changed me, money changed the way people think about me
When I was
broke all I had was my family
You know what kills me doe them fuckin' numskulls
I hate when
blacks be clowin blacks on all these talk shows
It's bad enough we shootin up each other
tradgically
Two days ago they found some brother smothered badly
Nobody's to be trusted in
this day and age
To much jealousy and envy on the wrong page
And fuck the po po because that
39% tax I pay
Don't get me nathan but a choke hold and some pepper
spray
Chorus
Our father who art in heaven
How it be thy name thy kingdom
come
That's the prayer that I say so spread the word
And if you feeling down and out read
proverbs
You know that I've been tweakin off something strange
Startin to see a lot |
