Dusted ’n’ Disgusted de E-40 |
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Letra de Dusted ’n’ Disgusted
Verse one: e-40
Im really not all that sure
Bout when things is finna mature
So let me find me a nigga with a grip
And hit his ass quick with one of them whoops
(whats the definition of a lick? )
Taking a niggaz shit
(hey put that on sumthin)
I put that on the click, the click
Back to fuckin work one of the homies jus got dusted
Time to do some dirt, uhh, I never trusted
Them bustas shot him in the shirt, dead on arrival
Now the town is funky, its called survival
What yall wanna do? they got us scuffled
(bullet high, get in your eye) if this was a fifth well I be drunk
Im heated, them niggaz cheated, played me false
We had em eatin, shit posed to been squashed
I noticed one killa on the double dribble and set him up yall
She likes the monie in the middle, play tetherball
Thick ass bitch, high yellow city-slicker
Scarecrow creepin southern bitches, aka posie pussyfictious
Verse two: spice-1
Nigga been holdin guts, but shit on hisself and a funky bill
Pullin out bills, frontin on material shit
Thats when I get to killin shit (killin shit)
And settin im up and havin im catchin a couple of slugs
Sl-uh sl-uh slugs, trynta fuck with savage thug
Pistol pop in they ass, see niggaz be gettin this twisted
Its that bitch that killed ya
Took all your money peeled ya
Seven niggaz bust in the room with aks
While a nigga be puttin on his jimmy
All of a sudden they shoot up your vuitton
Before you can hit the broccoli
See money-a-made that nigga, that nigga didnt make that money
Left them niggaz jacked up, and the bitch she macked him
Hes a busta, punk ass nigga, yall know the streets
Thats why that nigga naked layin dead in between some bloody sheets
Its just a part of the game he didnt feel
Bitches will kill, fuck a nigga, out his last d-uh dollar bill
You dont know that hoe main that bitch cant be trusted
Dusted and di-motherfuckin-sgusted
Chorus: e-40
Some cold hearted shit
Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
Whachall wanna do, whachall wanna do
Cold hearted bitches
Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
Whachall wanna do, I never trusted them bustas
Some cold hearted shit
Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
I never trusted them bustas
And its them cold hearted bitched
Back to fuckin work, one of the homies jus got dusted
Dusted and disgusted
Verse three: e-40, 2pac
Lets let of some two or threes on the other side of t-uh-town
Draw the attention on the other s-uh-side of town (other side of town)
And wait for the po-po shift to change, ghetto shootin range
Revenge on the r-uh-rebound, war games
Droughts, out, shhh lost clientele but I will prevail
By sellin the broccoli dank instead of the crack cocaine
Try not to steal narcotics
When these punk mcs and bitches be the reason why
The smoke be comin up out the chow, with my nigga pac
Dear god, can you forgive me? my futures lookin sick
Im in my rag hittin switches Im suspicious of these bitches
I keep on, calllin, but aint nobody pickin up
I think shes stallin, this evil bitch is tryin ta set me up
Came all alone if its on then its on
Wheres my motherfuckin chrome, only jealous niggaz roam
Its a war zone (war zone) but Im a man so with gun in hand
Im on my way to see this hoe you know the fuckin plan
Cant understand, but the things aint the same
You could die over these bitches if you slippin in the game
Niggaz gang bang, but bitches gang bang too
Give up that good thang, and put that pistol to your brain
If you was smart figure, dont have no love in your heart nigga
Any complications pull the trigger, dusted and disgusted
Bitches cant be trusted, you know the rules
They underhanded, she planned it, you fuckin fool
(these hoes out here tryin to hold a niggas heart
So a nigga get his money fucked with
Almost in-laws)
Hey be proud of it when you turn these bitches upside down
Whats gonna happen
(uhh, three and a half dollars or probably fo if
A bitch ridin)
(yeah main, them hoes talented
They be fuckin with mo mcs at jack the rapper)
(aight fuck it, what you say mall?
Ay, fuck them sheisty ass bootches, nigga)
Verse four: mac mall, spice-1, e-40
The california lifestyle that I live
Where the bitches is crooked and niggaz jus dont give
A flyin fuck, so I stay stuck, smokin on the tay-low
Bay area playa, tryin ta have shit major
And a bitch wont save ya
So I aint playin captain save a hoe
I mob up in ya like a pro and then Im gone
Im like sylvester stallone, everyday is like a cliffhanger
Action packed, I let the mini-mac smack that ass
Them hoes jacked that ass
Nigga woulda got smokin on that hash
Cant have my cash, better go and take your nigga stash
Cuz hes a busta, niggaz with clusters
Slippin in shit, betta jack that nigga fore I jack his ass bitch
Never was no love for the mark-ass, the lo pink (the lo pink)
You love them bootsy bitches, cant let them pussy bitches
Gank that ass, betta hide your cash and check her fast
Pump your brakes nigga, slow your roll dont go too fast
Cause bulletproof aint doin no good no mo no mo no mo no mo
Now, niggaz comin up dead with they brains blew out on the fuckin floor
Damn, hollow points to flesh tears through the teflon vest
Now r-uh-rest
Pull a plug on a flatline over those, one nigga less
One nigga less, from coast to coast, to the east to the west
Crushin the flesh, dem bitches played a game of death
Look over your shoulder watch your back dont even trust it
Im tryin to told ya end up dusted
Chorus |
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