Lyrics:
Margiela's cost seven or better
I'm the bank teller, no I'm a drank seller
I'm a fat nigga in a Gucci sweater
I'm a rich nigga and she a gold digger
He
) Motherfucker!
(E-40) Doo-Doo-Doo-Do
(E-40) Da-Da-Da (x1)
(E-40) 4-1-5-1-7-0-7 the bay area
(E-40) BIAATTCH!!
(E-40) There's a place in the bay
(E-40
) Motherfucker!
(E-40) Doo-Doo-Doo-Do
(E-40) Da-Da-Da (x1)
(E-40) 4-1-5-1-7-0-7 the bay area
(E-40) BIAATTCH!!
(E-40) There's a place in the bay
(E-40
me why he purged
They think I play with trick dice, I rolled like forty-sevens
First forty-eight, you a snitch
Forty-nine times out of fifty, I
my soldiers
And I'm gonna be the bank broker
What?
All I smell is smoke in da' air
Nuthin' but thefools downstairs (drag stairs)
Yeah
All I
10-20-30-40! 15 storey halo
10-20-30-40? 7 miles wide
7 miles wide!
"Ask a judge and jury
Joe find me 12 just men
We're gonna bottle up their fury
Make
you know nobody could,
7-40-7 we be feeling good,
From night to daylight,
The skin I wanna bite,
You fill my appetite.
Wont make it last forever,
I
different (different)
It ain't the crevice that you wanna shank
It's me - 'Fat Bank Take Little Bank', BEO-EO-ITCH! .. SHEEEAT!
[Chorus]
[E-40]
I was
(Hmm)
(Pour vrai)
GPA going up
GPA going down
24/7 that's the mothafucking motto (motto)
4.0 ching ching that's when we hit the lotto (lotto)
Smoke hella dank
Shit be making me stink
Fuck up your patterns
You not the same rank
Big Benjamin's on me
I walk like a bank
No trip, no trip
Finna flex
gonna be my soldiers
And I'm gonna be the bank broker
What?
[Chorus:]
All I smell is smoke in da' air
Nuthin' but the fools downstairs (drag
You could try to
Take my money
I ain't no bank teller
I ain't fighting
Got a 40 for that big fella
Took his helmet off
His hair was dyed
Like he
(That's writ, Too Scheezi, Ant Banks, Forty Fonzarelli, K-Ci)
Damn is that right?
(That's right)
Token for Pres')
It's going to spread like openin'
Legs when blowin' a les'
You know it's the best if you
See my name on it
This ain't costin' me no bank
Ringling, Ringling
Slippin' away
Only forty people, livin' there today
Streets are dusty and the bank has been torn down
It's a dyin' little town
run from
Seven MAC-11's, eight thirty-eights
If he an Alpo
Let the forty cal blow at his face
Made crack sales and dope sales
In front of minors
Put
son be Strong
Mama never raced a bitch
I had to be strong
Tell em bitch niggas I'm free
7 Bills, forty on my hip
I'm Gang gang, but I kept my focus
going no cap on 'em
Telling a story about attacking the bank
So I'm flooding the gates
In Switzerland, liquid money for days
Shoot the floodlights out
caped crusader.
Contact through the frame, no mistakes.
To bank rules, back in town and it's on us to shut 'em down.
Now fly what cha want to do,
One Two Niggas in the whip
Watch me pop up
Three four Shots out this Glock
It's a gun war
Five six
7 bad bitches hit me up nigga
Eight Nine
a week, put 40 hours on the clock
Need a million in my children's bank account before I drop
They hate I'm always working, giving attention to my fans
Like
Soldiers leave the place, so the cream I keep,
Six or seven g's everytime I beep,
Hit the streets fo' the game,
Plot fo' the bank,
Fuck wit' a boss,
hundred stars in the Wraith
Woo, and I'm on that forty-two man
Yeah, big bank take lil' bank
Uh, this my shit when I'm in the Wraith
And my Maybach up
off of that two-lane
Cranking it up on that creek bank
Falling in love to your mixtape
Got your country from your hometown
Hip hop from your
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