[E-40]
The definition of quarterbackin`
*Scratched*
the quarterback..
[Verse 1 - Malice]
Tell the cops don`t read into it
Them days of slangin` yay been finished, them days have been done ended
So far gone them days that I`m offended
Snitches can`t speak my name till they get winded
Can`t you tell there`s been a switch made?
Now fellas decide that they wanna run and tell like in the fifth grade
But I`m too gone, young`n be clear
Even when you see me, I am not really there
And I ain`t play fair wit` my eye on the enemy
Huggin` the block just me and my mini-me
Did it and lived it, grinded here
Cops fillin` wit` my projects find it yeah
Not only was I in the game, I was gifted in it
Served food to the fiends and we called `em dinners
Put the raw wit` the fake out, mixed it in it
Can`t explain the cat`s hustle, guess it just was in
It`s Malicious
[Chorus - E-40]
If you got the turf crackin` and ya money`s stackin`, ya
Quarterbackin`, Quarterbackin`
Leader of the squad and your the team captain
Quaterbackin`, Quarterbackin`
Gotta little change and ya drivin` a range
Quarterbackin`, Quarterbackin`
If ya sound system bangs, and ya pushin` them thangs
Quarterbackin`, Quarterbackin`
[Verse 2 - E-40]
Might not know what I`m talkin` about
If you ain`t never lived it, or seen it, or done it
Seen fiends vomit, green stuff I had to clean it up wit` comet
Mean stuff, so many deaths my streets is haunted
Believe us, you shoulda seen us, like Wile E. Coyote, man super genius
Against all odds like Serena and Venus
I only had a couple jobs in my life, but not too many thought I was grown
Who woulda thought I`d sell my skill for a microphone
And be rappin` about it up in the song, slidin` on some chrome
It`s long money I earn, I`m bald headed, but I used to have a lord Jesus perm
When my name was earl before the rap game
Runnin` from secret squirrel, I had my own thang
Raised by wolves, hyenas, and barracudas, gorillas and bulls
[Chorus]
[Pusha T]
I play the field like Vick, from endzone to endzone
Serve that ish like snowcones in the hood
Entrenched in the gutter, I was lost in the good
Cuz I make the gat stutta like a old G should
Mamas lookin, so much snookin`
Nights in the kitchen thought I`d never finish cookin`
Way before pay for this that I`m mouthin`
19 years young, upward of 80 thousand
Trust me young`n Pusha was never browsin` for nothin` section 8 housin`
I`m stompin` thru like King Kong claimin` his home, his jungle
Mumblers beware the hood hates singers
I connect, block the corner like Jenga, fall never, you seen `em
Posted in the hood leanin` fiends like the Tower of Pisa
Damn he`s good..
[Chorus x2]
[E-40 - Talking]
Now of course you know I ain`t talkin` about sports
I`m talkin` about runnin some shit
I`m talkin` about workestratin` and illustratin`
Glorifyin` ya paper route
Whether it serve it to, uh..
Gettin` out there hustlin`, grittin` and grindin`
Doin` ya thug-thizzlemajiggadale
Quarterbackin` man, hustlin` main
Trust that main, yeah, in real life main
Some call it pitchin`, some call it grindin`
We call it Quarterbackin`
Yeah, and I ain`t talkin` about sports, trust that main..
{*scratched until fade: The Quarterback*}
