Lyrics:
gonna do
Hardcore yo I could never be soft
Askin' me my defin' they say the boy goes off
Fillin' up my memo with the touch of my rhyme
Suckaz stayin'
money nigga, they just want to see my bank on E
Them bitch ass nigga tried to bang on me, they aim wasn't neat, gang boy
Pac ass niggas be mentioning
or get smoked
We come by the masses you come and get choked
If you take me for a fool I'll take you for a joke
Tired of fast food so they cooked up dope
Island
Chill.... Yeaaaaaa, Hahahaha....
Ruff enuff to rock New York to Long Island
(PMD)
Back up, boy, move easy wit the hand motion
get through this man, meet me by the sto'
And I don't know, what they told you boy
I got that A1, whole baking soda boy
You could add the B12, put it in
Cause I'm the cream of the crop when it's time to do a show
Girlies on my jock for my dope intro
As I glance at E-Double, kickin' microphone wrecker
the ground
It's time a nigga put Big Boy
Where the fuck they belong
Rollin' wit Tec-9 snortin' dope
Best believe it's on
Partners-N-Crime you ain't nothin'
of the crop when it's time to do a show
Girlies on my jock for my dope intro
As I glance at E-Double, kickin' microphone wrecker
Turn on my cordless, sayin' mic
(shit was dope)
Hey, yo, Eazy! (Wassup?)
Hey, man, why don't you come off the piano for a minute
And bust this crazy shit?
Woke up quick at about
Tick, tick, tock
Yo Check it out it's your boy Don Cannon
You've just experience A Matter of Time
Presented by my Homie
Mike Posner, and DJ Benzi
a cold game
Played by the coldest man
Everything ya see is not
The 7-4 k
The son of cocaine
I'm a dopeman
Plus I'm holdin' weight
Cause I'm the dope
(shit was dope)
Hey, yo, Eazy! (wassup?)
Hey, man, why don't you come off the piano for a minute
And bust this crazy shit?
Woke up quick at about
broke
Like an egg yolk, I ain't no joke
Like some uncut dope motherfucker, Kid Rock's to blame
Same game, same name, ain't a damn thing changed
No
[E-40] White girl (x8)
(White girl" continues to repeat 8X in background)
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl
[E
designer belts
I design your face, the tray hitch lift ya up
Rock niggas like Bobby Boucher, you waterboy
What you want, weed, dope, or water, boy?
It's
Check
Yeah, yeah (Funkmaster Flex)
Actually, that, that was pretty dope, man (ayo)
Can't even lie
Ayo, I got game, plenty
Talk shit, reload
[Chorus: x2]
Damn, it can't get no worse than this cause I done hit rock bottom
I'mma get up on a muthafuckin' sack and a big ass bottle to solve
that light
Light off in that spot, knowin' that we could rock
Doin' the hole in the wall clubs, this shit here must stop, like "Freeze"
We makin'
[Turf Talk + (E-40)]
Damn nigga, ay where Mikey at mayne?
Ay, ay Droop-E, Droop-E! You old enough to drink nigga?
Whassup cousin? (Whassup tycoon,
D-O-P-E by the way the girls react
When they see, me they screaming so loud that they voices crack
Just like that; she never met a jerk like I
Told me
alone knock-a
A clock on my chest proves I don't fess
I'm a clock-a, rock-a rockin' wit-da-rest
Flavor in da house by chuck-d's side
Chuck got da
broke
Like an egg yolk, I ain't no joke
Like some uncut dope motherfucker, Kid Rock's to blame
Same game, same name, ain't a damn thing changed
No
I ain't a sucker!
This is the autobiography of the E, and if you ever fuck with me
You'll get taken by a stupid dope brotha who will smother
Word
Bad boy bad boy I am a bad boy
Hot boy hot boy I am a hot boy
Dope boy dope boy I am a dope boy
Flex on it flex on it I am flex on it
Rock "rak"
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