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E-40 : Dump, Bust, Blast lyrics

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

E-40 lyrics : "Dump, Bust, Blast"

Uh (Uh)
Come on, ai, ai Boskeezy?
Ai, my, my, turn it up (burps)

Hey Boskeezy? Hey that %#@! right there, ay
(talk to my wepolations), that %#@!.
That's ibeen? That %#@! smibeen that %#@! ibeen?

That %#@! smibeen, ooh (ooh)

4:15 showcasing to the max

Got my truckamajig free racing causing anxiety attacks
Pitch black normal tint BOOM BAP!
$#&@ed around and overheated my Zues amp

500, oh the hoes, $#&@ a ho
These are the thing that, uh, you need to know
Bust him open spin open the duct tape and the foil

Eat the rest and get a pot and let 'em boil
Bullet proof vest never confess keep a bucket full of acid
1-800-888 zippers-on-tastic

Clinetel, raise 'em high raise 'em low
Out on bail everybody hit the floor

Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust,
Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust (ooh!)

Dump, Bust, Blast, Dump, Bust,
Dump, Bust, (BEOTCH!) Blast

Slurp slip, deep throat %#@! I'm outta sight
I like to get my dick sucked in - broad daylight
Acting bad on the soil acting tough

Break your $$# down like a 12-gauge and call yo' bluff
Ignore a fool, that's what they holler
Snatch his bootsy $$# up by the collar

Law enforcement agents got me and my dudes up under investigation
We hot like jalapenos
Man, how come ^!$$%s can't put their money together like Philipinos?

I suppose, can you bring him back?
He was one of them enemies that tried to participate
in Swiss Cheezin' my clean $$# Cadillac

My Cadillac, My Pontiac I mean
My under bucket hoopty parked on magazines

[Chorus: 2x]

Check it out (check it out)

Third verse, let's begin lets be gone
I done served more water than, uh, Evian
Posted up like a thumbtack on the boulevard serving dead

Yola, ice cream, Ben and Jerry (Jer)
I've been doing somethings, cigars and pinky rings
I'm a fixture up in this %#@! like E-40 and the Click

Paper all up under my box spring matress choppers on top of the fridge
Automatics in the kitchen cabinets man I kill a mother$#&@er over mathematics
Haters gonna hate, but they don't count ^!$$% hustle

The dope game runs on two thing (what's that?) money and muscle
Do some gotti, fourth of July your party
Laid his "supposed to be so called hardest ^!$$% in your town"

ass down in front of everybody

[Chorus: (with three overdubbed tracks of random talking)]

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