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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


[Chorus:]
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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