Testo Gargoyle Serenade - E-40
Testo della canzone Gargoyle Serenade (E-40), tratta dall'album The Block Brochure: Welcome To The Soil 3
Scraping the pavement with his knuckles, gorilla-like with it
Run a background check, bet you they say he live it
He got a voice out there, mayne, he don't wear a muzzle
West Coast fixture, disrespect him, you in trouble
Niggaish nigga, dig that with a shovel
Broccoli in the air, gathered up in a huddle
'Bout to blast off like a space shuttle
RealHustlersUnite.com, born in the struggle
Can't be weak, gotta earn your keep
Gotta stay woke while everybody else asleep
'Cause they dusty, mayne, they dirty, mayne, they'll try and sneak
Creep up on you from behind and make your melon leak
Watch your back and your front
Gotta pack the kind of guns that hunters use to hunt
Braveheart, not a punk
It can go down at any time, be prepared for funk
I was built for this shit, seen cats get peeled in this shit
For either flapping they lips or warring over a chick
Either that or they snitched or owe somebody some chips
Used to flea flick and pitch, fucked around and got rich
So damn focused, ferocious, mayne, I don't know if y'all notice
I'm tryna bubble like sodas, it's funky like halitosis
Stanky gritty, no pity, it's a killer in every city
On the ave where it's mannish, posted up with the mini
Ugh, back from a leave of absence
Got the block pregnant, now it's having contractions
All boys, not girls, like the Braxtons
Selling that white like the Kardashians
On the track like a weave, loaded as fuck, keyed
Got a pint of that there oil and a Zap of broccoli
And I wish a bitch would try to slide through, I'm ready
I'ma send him back in a box, and I ain't talking 'bout a Chevy
I'm toting something heavy that'll fuck a fucker up
A cinnamon roll, look like a snake curled up
Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga goes the hundred-round drum
Woo, the ambulams, here they come
Flatline, folks crying, "My baby was a angel, son"
But little did she know that little devil was a finagler
A robber, a thief, a stealer, always into something
A pillar, running from the po-po and the soil
He had it coming, bitch
Credits
Writer(s): Earl T Stevens, Earl Stevens Jr.
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