Lirik Lagu Get Your Paper - Master P F/ E 40
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Master P: Ughhh! Ha ha!E 40: Oooo! Huh? P whats up boy?MP: Whats up 40 boy?E 40: Talk to me weepilation.MP: Dey dont know we been doin dis.E 40: Last DeezyLast Don.MP: Bay Area playa nigga.E 40: This E Feezy Fonzareezyyour weepilation up out the Yea Areaall dayerytime. Like dis here. Element ofSurprise. Da Last DonCharlie Hustle. Check it out.E 40:Let it be writ and said, done and publishedThat on the sixth month of June 1998E-40 Fonzarellie AKA Charlie HustleezyAnd my Third Ward weepilationFrom the No Limit Records Headquarters and congregationPlugged up and did a rumble together without no hesitation and erasedAny Old School classic memories of Northern CaliforniaGodzilla ballin and Bay stranglin and hustlinMorning, night, day in NOrleansAnd dang near fallin asleep on the freewayBobbin and weavin and ditchin and dodgin po-po, penelope forceTryin to convince em that me and the dope game wasnt gettin along anyhowWe had been went our separate waysShit, we been had a divorceIn and out of court, betta yetNeva was married any how and engagedPushed in the game at a young age, trapped in a ghetto cageWent from hardly any to, uh, plenty of cashTo, uh, high speed chases to, uh, makin a dashUh, excuse me sir can I have your autographAnd, uh, when your new album droppin foolThat other shit was cool(Chorus)E-40:Get your money man, get your paperGet your paper man, get your moneyGet your fettie or your scratch, get your skrillGet your revvies man, get paidGet your mail man, get your marblesGet your marbles man, get your mailGet your grits, get your chettah, get your chipsGet your snaps man, get paidMater P:Ughhh! Ball wit da real, hang wit da GsStarted from Richmond, California to New OrleansGame wont change, these niggas cant fade meMama still pray for babyGhetto got me sick, dope fiends and crack headsNiggas on da front porch wit tech nines and lemon headsAnd all I want be is a soldierCause Im tired of runnin from da rollasJumped in da rap game and now dey cant hold usGhetto millionaires and still blowin dojaKeep my composure when times hecticNow I own a house in California, Orlando, and TexasAnd still run wit the thug niggasAnd made tapes for bitches and drug dealasAnd push 600 wit a bulletproofThe ghetto Bill GatesThe only president wit a gold tooth(Chorus)E-40:Uh, n-neva let your guards downAlways play defense neva offenseCause suckas a try to make your kindness for weaknessAnd damn sho try to shake your hand up unda falsified pretensesSequence thisPaint a portrait of these next eventsSee if you can predict what I was about to sayWithin the next couple of sentencesTechnically impossibleTo hard to callSee right when he thought I was gone throw a sliderI threw him a knuckle ballBack against the wall, knockin niggas out (knockin niggas out)Hemmed up in da corner nigga thats what Im aboutMaster P:Feel my pain, sometimes I feel trappedNigga tired of hangin in the ghetto takin food stampsCause this street life got me crazyBut I hustle cause I gotta feed a babyAnd only God can take meAnd aint no nigga in this hood gone play meSo when I ball Im a ball til I fizallAnd when Im gone put my name on the wizall(Chorus)[Ad-libs until end]
