E-40 Turn Up the Music song lyrics

(*Prod. by Rick Rock)

[E-40:]

Turn up the music*

[Chorus (4x): ~E-40~]

(*"Turn up the music!" - {3x}*) Turn up the music

[E-40:]

Pockets starvin, niggaz hurtin, money gone (money gone)

It's kinda like tryin to pass a kidney stone (kidney stone)

But I got hustle in my veins in my bones in my skin

Motherfucker I'ma win!

One foot in the grave (grave) the other one in the pen (pen)

One hand on the scale (scale) the other one on my extennndo

Heartless, empty the cartridge raw

Darkness, get out of Dodge so far

Now I don't look for trouble but trouble be always seemin to find me

Suckers don't wanna schuffle but suckers'll rather try to die me

Blind me, grimey, sneak up right behind me

Creep up on a fixture and give it to a nigga {*BLAOW!*}

You might be slick mayne, but I'm much slicker (I'm much slicker)

You might be sick mayne, but I'm much sicker (I'm much sicker)

That's yo' wife mayne, but she my ripper

What'chu want peeyimp?

[Repeat Chorus:]

[E-40:]

Watch this though...

I was talkin to my mentor, look what I do

I said that I tell him I told him you don't know what I've been through

You don't know what I can do, you don't see what I can see

But I'ma listen to you cause you my motherfuckin O.G.

You can learn from an infant, you can learn from a baby

You can learn from a dopefiend that appear to be crazy

Family I'm lifted like a toilet seat, high as fuck I'm hazy

But there's somethin about that hit on me that make a hustler angry

With a slap like this that make my next door neighbors wanna hate me

Call up police and snitch report a hustler to the federales

Man I'm about my chips, I'm concrete and I'm solid (solid)

Rubber bands, fuck a money clip or wallet (wallet)

Send a sucker to hell or either heaven

With my AK-47 or my FM-57

.62, my Mac-11 make you sing the blues

Blow you out your shoes, your only clue is Headline News

[Repeat Chorus:]

[E-40:]

Uhhh! Turn up the music

Never pull a pistol if you ain't plannin on usin it (mm-mm)

And around around it goes

Roamin stop nobody, no skatin in my Oldsssssss-mobile

Sittin on top of the hill

Smokin on some kill, burnin the rubber off my wheels

Lettin her know that I'm for real, showin off my skill

Me and my, redbone, french and black, maybe Creole

I'd rather not shoot you, I'd rather fight

I just look like this but I'll be the first one to strike!

Fucked this broad the other night

Had the mm-mmm, her monkey was hella tight

Her ex lookin like he wanna take flight

Knowin that the nigga softer than a baby wipe

He tryin to prove it, I knew it, and that fluid'll do it

Before I lose it... turn up the music (beitch!)

[Repeat Chorus:]