歌曲 | Duckin' & Dodgin' |
歌手 | E-40 |
专辑 | Charlie Hustle: Blueprint Of A Self-Made Millionaire |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Kante, Stevens | |
My scrilla' my paper my scratch, my scrilla' my paper my scratch | |
My hookas my bitches, my batch, my hookas my bitches, my batch | |
My peppa, my pistols, my straps, my peppa my pistols my straps | |
My oozies, my choppas my gats, my oozies my choppas my gats | |
The wires the taps the traps | |
Po-po got me twisted how can us hustlas maintain and relax | |
When these killas out here snitchin' bendin' conas fa cova' | |
Just remember tell my motha' I love her, I love her | |
On top of that the I the r the s | |
Police station lookin' fo' me got a warrant out fo' my arrest | |
Fo' tax evasion, fake identification | |
Up under alias number skipped bail | |
Now I'm hidin' from the bounty hunter man I ain't neva' went to jail | |
An' told some stuff | |
Vallejo didn't raise no powder puff | |
When I see 'em I'm blastin' I'm dumpin' make believers | |
Make somebody gon' mind somethin' newspaper readers | |
Can you do me a favor an' ask yo' neighbor | |
Did he blast first an' ask questions later | |
I betcha they tell ya I did such a wicked ass earthling | |
Why did you kidnap that little kid, man I wasn't gonna hurt him | |
[Chorus] | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
The highs the speeds the chases, the relays the laps the races | |
My stuggle, my hustle, my pain, my purpose, my vision, my aim | |
After ditchin' an' dodgin' the rolla | |
I found myself in South Dakota | |
All by myself grindin' an' runnin' the block | |
hustlin' an' slangin' them rocks | |
Perkin' an' listen to pac switchin' locations an' spots | |
Greasin' an' cleanin' my glocks | |
Cookin' an' throwin' away pots | |
Coppin' an' orderin' chops | |
Sewin' an' stitchin' up cock | |
Scheming an' plottin' my knots | |
Pajamas an' sock home invasion an' kickin' locks | |
Jackin' an' robbin' gankin' niggas tyin' 'em up | |
An' makin' 'em watch me **** they botch | |
Servin' flour in a drought | |
I'm in the hot seat anyhow plus I been done struck out | |
Already it's heavy I'm hurtin' | |
Two nights ago ran upon the wrong person | |
Pulled out his lead and aimed it fo' my head | |
Instead it hit me in my leg burstin' | |
Who got a band-aid | |
Can't go see a surgeon cause I ain't on medicaid or should I say medical | |
I'm in this pal for quite sometime | |
Now I been wanted for a little while | |
Somebody dropped a dime an' I was [phone rings] | |
[Chorus] | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
The highs the speeds the chases, the relays the laps the races | |
My struggle, my hustle, my pain, my purpose, my vision, my aim | |
The grays the hounds the bussies | |
Surplus camourflage in the middle somewhere in Kentucky | |
Way out of dodge lost a little weight but I used to be chubby nigga | |
Stressin' poppin' pills | |
Takin' more than anti-depressants I got the chills | |
Tryin' to get away from them fuzz and pheasants teachin' lessons | |
Got mo' scrilla' than I done count blessings | |
Since I was hills the smithins the slugs the wessons | |
Engine block gettin' cracked with some of them 355 them 7's | |
Ya get mopped as far as weapons | |
I ain't neva been no sucka in life | |
Poked an' m-mate in the stomach wit a number twice | |
****in' around when they brought me down to be exact | |
On the streets I'm nothin' but up in here | |
I'm under dat act | |
[Chorus] | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it. gotta git gone, git on out | |
The highs the speeds thew chases, the relays the laps the races | |
My struggle, my hustle, my pain, my purpose, my vision, my aim |
zuo ci : Kante, Stevens | |
My scrilla' my paper my scratch, my scrilla' my paper my scratch | |
My hookas my bitches, my batch, my hookas my bitches, my batch | |
My peppa, my pistols, my straps, my peppa my pistols my straps | |
My oozies, my choppas my gats, my oozies my choppas my gats | |
The wires the taps the traps | |
Popo got me twisted how can us hustlas maintain and relax | |
When these killas out here snitchin' bendin' conas fa cova' | |
Just remember tell my motha' I love her, I love her | |
On top of that the I the r the s | |
Police station lookin' fo' me got a warrant out fo' my arrest | |
Fo' tax evasion, fake identification | |
Up under alias number skipped bail | |
Now I' m hidin' from the bounty hunter man I ain' t neva' went to jail | |
An' told some stuff | |
Vallejo didn' t raise no powder puff | |
When I see ' em I' m blastin' I' m dumpin' make believers | |
Make somebody gon' mind somethin' newspaper readers | |
Can you do me a favor an' ask yo' neighbor | |
Did he blast first an' ask questions later | |
I betcha they tell ya I did such a wicked ass earthling | |
Why did you kidnap that little kid, man I wasn' t gonna hurt him | |
Chorus | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
The highs the speeds the chases, the relays the laps the races | |
My stuggle, my hustle, my pain, my purpose, my vision, my aim | |
After ditchin' an' dodgin' the rolla | |
I found myself in South Dakota | |
All by myself grindin' an' runnin' the block | |
hustlin' an' slangin' them rocks | |
Perkin' an' listen to pac switchin' locations an' spots | |
Greasin' an' cleanin' my glocks | |
Cookin' an' throwin' away pots | |
Coppin' an' orderin' chops | |
Sewin' an' stitchin' up cock | |
Scheming an' plottin' my knots | |
Pajamas an' sock home invasion an' kickin' locks | |
Jackin' an' robbin' gankin' niggas tyin' ' em up | |
An' makin' ' em watch me they botch | |
Servin' flour in a drought | |
I' m in the hot seat anyhow plus I been done struck out | |
Already it' s heavy I' m hurtin' | |
Two nights ago ran upon the wrong person | |
Pulled out his lead and aimed it fo' my head | |
Instead it hit me in my leg burstin' | |
Who got a bandaid | |
Can' t go see a surgeon cause I ain' t on medicaid or should I say medical | |
I' m in this pal for quite sometime | |
Now I been wanted for a little while | |
Somebody dropped a dime an' I was phone rings | |
Chorus | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
The highs the speeds the chases, the relays the laps the races | |
My struggle, my hustle, my pain, my purpose, my vision, my aim | |
The grays the hounds the bussies | |
Surplus camourflage in the middle somewhere in Kentucky | |
Way out of dodge lost a little weight but I used to be chubby nigga | |
Stressin' poppin' pills | |
Takin' more than antidepressants I got the chills | |
Tryin' to get away from them fuzz and pheasants teachin' lessons | |
Got mo' scrilla' than I done count blessings | |
Since I was hills the smithins the slugs the wessons | |
Engine block gettin' cracked with some of them 355 them 7' s | |
Ya get mopped as far as weapons | |
I ain' t neva been no sucka in life | |
Poked an' mmate in the stomach wit a number twice | |
in' around when they brought me down to be exact | |
On the streets I' m nothin' but up in here | |
I' m under dat act | |
Chorus | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it. gotta git gone, git on out | |
The highs the speeds thew chases, the relays the laps the races | |
My struggle, my hustle, my pain, my purpose, my vision, my aim |
zuò cí : Kante, Stevens | |
My scrilla' my paper my scratch, my scrilla' my paper my scratch | |
My hookas my bitches, my batch, my hookas my bitches, my batch | |
My peppa, my pistols, my straps, my peppa my pistols my straps | |
My oozies, my choppas my gats, my oozies my choppas my gats | |
The wires the taps the traps | |
Popo got me twisted how can us hustlas maintain and relax | |
When these killas out here snitchin' bendin' conas fa cova' | |
Just remember tell my motha' I love her, I love her | |
On top of that the I the r the s | |
Police station lookin' fo' me got a warrant out fo' my arrest | |
Fo' tax evasion, fake identification | |
Up under alias number skipped bail | |
Now I' m hidin' from the bounty hunter man I ain' t neva' went to jail | |
An' told some stuff | |
Vallejo didn' t raise no powder puff | |
When I see ' em I' m blastin' I' m dumpin' make believers | |
Make somebody gon' mind somethin' newspaper readers | |
Can you do me a favor an' ask yo' neighbor | |
Did he blast first an' ask questions later | |
I betcha they tell ya I did such a wicked ass earthling | |
Why did you kidnap that little kid, man I wasn' t gonna hurt him | |
Chorus | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
The highs the speeds the chases, the relays the laps the races | |
My stuggle, my hustle, my pain, my purpose, my vision, my aim | |
After ditchin' an' dodgin' the rolla | |
I found myself in South Dakota | |
All by myself grindin' an' runnin' the block | |
hustlin' an' slangin' them rocks | |
Perkin' an' listen to pac switchin' locations an' spots | |
Greasin' an' cleanin' my glocks | |
Cookin' an' throwin' away pots | |
Coppin' an' orderin' chops | |
Sewin' an' stitchin' up cock | |
Scheming an' plottin' my knots | |
Pajamas an' sock home invasion an' kickin' locks | |
Jackin' an' robbin' gankin' niggas tyin' ' em up | |
An' makin' ' em watch me they botch | |
Servin' flour in a drought | |
I' m in the hot seat anyhow plus I been done struck out | |
Already it' s heavy I' m hurtin' | |
Two nights ago ran upon the wrong person | |
Pulled out his lead and aimed it fo' my head | |
Instead it hit me in my leg burstin' | |
Who got a bandaid | |
Can' t go see a surgeon cause I ain' t on medicaid or should I say medical | |
I' m in this pal for quite sometime | |
Now I been wanted for a little while | |
Somebody dropped a dime an' I was phone rings | |
Chorus | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
The highs the speeds the chases, the relays the laps the races | |
My struggle, my hustle, my pain, my purpose, my vision, my aim | |
The grays the hounds the bussies | |
Surplus camourflage in the middle somewhere in Kentucky | |
Way out of dodge lost a little weight but I used to be chubby nigga | |
Stressin' poppin' pills | |
Takin' more than antidepressants I got the chills | |
Tryin' to get away from them fuzz and pheasants teachin' lessons | |
Got mo' scrilla' than I done count blessings | |
Since I was hills the smithins the slugs the wessons | |
Engine block gettin' cracked with some of them 355 them 7' s | |
Ya get mopped as far as weapons | |
I ain' t neva been no sucka in life | |
Poked an' mmate in the stomach wit a number twice | |
in' around when they brought me down to be exact | |
On the streets I' m nothin' but up in here | |
I' m under dat act | |
Chorus | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it, gotta git gone, git on out | |
Gotta git it. gotta git gone, git on out | |
The highs the speeds thew chases, the relays the laps the races | |
My struggle, my hustle, my pain, my purpose, my vision, my aim |