Текст E–40 – In The Morning

Intro:
The slums of the big town
As packed with drama and danger as the squallered streets of some native quarter
In the heart of the milling pot of crime stands on an oasis where one man struggles

Verse 1:
Ugh, Sinister Mob shit
Choppers all in the closet
Hydrogen lamps in the attic
Warm broccoli, spinach and cabbage
I keep sealer on the counter right next to the money counter
That’s right next to sale for wayne, nuts and fruits not yail
That’s right usually they take me to jail
Listen to this here coz
Never explain to the popo or tell em shit
Caz they ain’t the fuckin judge
It’s money on my mind and paper I gotta get
Bitches I need fuck and licks that I must hit
Moves that Imma make, and whips I’m try’na flip
Steps that I should take be careful I don’t slip
When I was little I had to bird watch and listen
So I could be real conditioned and ready for the unexpected to occur anytime
I’m on my 24 hour grind
In my prime gettin mine
Greenbach’s in the making
Gutta on the line
Gelupe I be chasing
Now I’m bout my spine
Outsmarting the popo selling dopo
Holding up a homeless sign

Chorus:
Banger hidden’ under my clothes
I pull it out, and they kno
Bustin’ rubber bands, gettin’ that dough
I got that plug and we juggin’ for sure
Just ask all the knocks
I’ll be right back out here in the morning
x2

Verse 2:
Wake up in the morning first thing on my mind is Cropo
Gutta, shoota
And I could meet up at ya taco
Cop fo, I don’t serve I just sit back and watch bro
Slingers, bangers, ruggers
In love with my 40 Glock tho
Slidin through ghetto on 4s
Dodging them potholes
Heavy metal drugs and hoes
Call it the rock show
Oooh I’m really mobbing
No prob to get ya top blown
Hit em up, slit em up, rig em up
Right back at it when the cops gone
Welcome to the top zone
2 A block nigga
Raised by JLo
Certified top hitters
Switch ya field with dad
Got a bout a glad bag
What it betta I let it sag
Stuntin showing my ass
Flashin on my little bourbons
Take ya fat ass to class
Gotta a feeling can’t be mad
Caught em dippin in my stash
No task two tabs I’m rollin
I’ve been posting on this bitch since mawning

Chorus

Verse 3:
When I go ham
Money on my mind 24/7 damn
Kick a broke bitch out my spot like pam
I’m a hussla in every sense of the word
Favorite days of the month 1st to the 3rd
That’s when all the things drop out
So I don’t sleep
Tell my knocka spread the word
Bra I’m taking the ebt
Wiped cars, social security checks I run through them
Duffy right on the drive way nigga I swoop in
Rock what you think
Shit the BAV, bread in our hands, deposits all day
Scheming on the come up try’na get my ones up
30 round bink
Wish a nigga run up
I keep a weapon, a pistol, poker or popper
Certain to bludgeon a hater to death if he disrespects my propers
Work 30 I’m a motherfukin monster
These noodle spin nigga get ate like pastas

Chorus