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E-40 feat Turf Talk and Cousin Fik - Paint the Picture (Sharp on All 4 Corners: Corners 1. 2014)
E-40 feat Turf Talk and Cousin Fik — Paint the Picture (Sharp on All 4 Corners: Corners 1. 2014)
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Paint the Picture (Sharp on All 4 Corners: Corners 1. 2014) E-40 feat Turf Talk and Cousin Fik03:46
Текст песни: Paint the Picture (Sharp on All 4 Corners: Corners 1. 2014)
Paint The Picture Lyrics[Intro Sample] I guess it must be so hard, that once you're hooked on heroin, or alcohol, uh, unless you're an incredibly powerful person with a great desire to stop it, even if you have the best rehab people in the world, it's very hard to get off [Chorus: Turf Talk & (E-40)] A dope fiend might be your momma And you can get knocked off for a couple of dollars (Let me paint the picture) The nigga you grew up with might shoot at ya Hot bullets, nigga, we ain't throwing food at ya That nigga got a Benz and a Bentley thang And he don't play sports, he sell cocaine (Let me paint the picture) Nigga kill a cop, get a hundred years Cop kill a nigga, don't nobody care [Verse 1: E-40] Ugh, pissy sidewalks and hallways White chalk, candlelights, and bouquets Crime scene, shell casings from the AK's Donations, send the victim off the right way And for revenge, worldwide they spending thousands Gotta be careful at these halfway houses It's sick out here, patience Double deuce thirds, and 5.56 casings The neighbors ain't tellin' shit (Tellin' shit) They mouthpiece is celibate (Celibate) I don't condone the violence, turn the other cheek (Cheek) Hard to deal with when your loved one's deceased (Deceased) The funk'll never end When I'm done with rap I might become a reverend (A reverend?) 'Cause I been spittin' scriptures (Spittin' scriptures) Let me paint the picture! [Chorus: Turf Talk & (E-40)] A dope fiend might be your mama And you can get knocked off for a couple of dollars (Let me paint the picture) The nigga you grew up with might shoot at ya Hot bullets, nigga, we ain't throwing food at ya That nigga got a Benz and a Bentley thang And he don't play sports, he sell cocaine (Let me paint the picture) Nigga kill a cop, get a hundred years Cop kill a nigga, don't nobody care [Verse 2: Turf Talk] I know some raider niggas that'll raid ya house I'll rob ya ass and I'll fuck your spouse Hit ya cell phones 'til ya pay up Get that address and spray that bitch up Retarded bitch, tell her watch the kids 'Cause I'm out working and I'm murking shit Got my scarf on, got my gloves on And I'm through the window like a bopper She bet' not make a move, she bet not make a peep If she do, my partner gon' strangle her This the ghetto ,nigga, ain't no rules at all And the punk police ain't no friends of ours I get credit at the liquor store 'cause I'm a regular Tell the owner I'll be back soon as I get this fetti up I'm selling dope, it ain't no jobs (No jobs) And we still trippin' off Trayvon (Fuck the police) [Chorus: Turf Talk & (E-40)] A dope fiend might be your momma And you can get knocked off for a couple of dollars (Let me paint the picture) The nigga you grew up with might shoot at ya Hot bullets, nigga, we ain't throwing food at ya That nigga got a Benz and a Bentley thang And he don't play sports, he sell cocaine (Let me paint the picture) Nigga kill a cop, get a hundred years Cop kill a nigga, don't nobody care [Verse 3: Cousin Fik] Fik, look, thinking to myself driving down I-80 Has anybody noticed all these real moves lately? The end is close, you gotta watch friends and folks 'Cause you never know who the devil might send to smoke you Blood flowing through the streets; you look down, you drown Turned your TV on the scene how they dead Mike Brown Killed little Trayvon, and said "stand your ground" But gave Marissa 20 years when it was the other way around I'm like "fuck," niggas shooting, if I got enough time I might duck Niggas looting like we ain't got enough crime, feel like I'm stuck In the belly of the beast My heart cold like a cheap 'telly sheet These hoes full of trife and deceit Magnum rubber on when I skeet I can't leave the block, I'm on the street Had the same clothes on for a week [Chorus: Turf Talk & (E-40)] A dope fiend might be your momma And you can get knocked off for a couple of dollars (Let me paint the picture) The nigga you grew up with might shoot at ya Hot bullets, nigga, we ain't throwing food at ya That nigga got a Benz and a Bentley thang And he don't play sports, he sell cocaine (Let me paint the picture) Nigga kill a cop, get a hundred years Cop kill a nigga, don't nobody care
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