Welcome to Gaia! ::

Damn *****, ay where Mikey at mayne?
Ay, ay Droop-E, Droop-E! You old enough to drink *****?
Whassup cousin? (Whassup tycoon, what's goin on?)
It's your young nephew Turkey mayne
(What is it boy? What's goin on family?)
There's a lot of s**t that need to be said big cousin
(Talk to me, I'll talk back)
First of all I'ma start by just sayin we can't be ******** with
And you know it!!! (Ooooh)
Got all the whole hood in this ******** (the whole soil)
Sick Wid It ***** (now) been runnin this s**t

[E-40]
Look out pimp!
Oyster Perpetual, cushion cut bezel
I'm busy I ain't even had time to eat a fortune cookie
Since I signed with BME every promoter
and every agency in the industry been tryin to book me
Mackin-a** 40, what that do?
Sometimes me, always you
Man you a real-a** *****, man you a boss
If I had yo' hand I woulda been done cut mine off
A cult following, hustlers they love me
Kill a tree and put a rock in the hospital over me
If you see me up in the mountains with a lion, I ain't lyin
***** don't help me, my ***** help the mountain lion!
Uhh, chalupas {?} thousand dollar stacks
Turn a couple of ki's into a couple hundred racks
The main drag, the soil, the blacktop
The gravel, the D-spot, we open like IHOP

[Turf Talk]
Yea mayne! These ******** know!
***** this is big 40-Water ******** ambassador of the Bay *****!
***** we stay eatin over here ******** niggaz need to step your ******** weight up *****
Sick Wid It, BME ******** out pimp!
Hit me on my chirp, I got that ******** e'rybody else, I got myself on my shirt
Better hurry up and come and get 'em we got the lowest rates
I'm tellin you pimpin cause they goin like hotcakes
Cops come and spoil it we flushin it down the toilet
Throw it in the battery acid and then destroy it
Pay attention and learn, while I teach you how to grit and grind
Fifteen five? All the time (cool)
These square-a** rappers, they get a few bucks
Then they, lose contact get out of touch
With the, with the streets, we stick to the turf like cleets
Off the leash, we thirsty we hungry we beasts
Look out, watch out, here come the jumpout
Hide your dope in your a**s, and put the weed out
'Fore they beat us and choke us and take our funds
And shoot us with them tazer guns

[Turf Talk]
You niggaz'll get your ******** head knocked off ******** with us boy
***** we been doin this s**t *****
Niggaz need to bow the ******** down and pay homage *****
Niggaz been stealin our s**t for years 40!
Niggaz brave to talk around these ********, WATER!

[E-40]
The whole enchilada, the whole ******** I'm a capo!
Play with hundred round drums
Me and my u-salaam(?)
A stingy *****, watch every penny that I spend
Go to any hood in the world and fit right in
A young *****, with an old soul
A busy *****, put the President on hold
Ride Vogues, 26 inch toes
Got the inside of the laws smokin like broke stogs
You can find me in the mall, buyin up all the clothes
Or in A-T-L or Club 112, throwin them 'bows
Left and right arms froze, cold like the ice from the cooler
Just left the jeweler, rose gold, Frank Mueller
I smoke big, growin weed in my garage
Police roll up, I got a cannabis card

[Turf Talk]
Wait wait wait! Money.. power and respect ******** told you niggaz mayne! We hongry *****!
We eat soup with a fork around this b***h mayne!
Knahmean? Step your ******** weight up *****
You niggaz pockets is touchin ******** starvin! [laughter]

R.A.P. = Retards Attempting Poetry.

Epic fail. talk2hand

Seems to me that there are only two requirements for being a rap "artist."

1. You must be able to talk in rhythm with a simple drum beat.

2. The words "*****," "********," and "pimp" must make up at least 70% of your vocabulary.

WAM! Instant rap star! Sell millions of records (even though every song is about "mother ********' ***** pimps in da hood"), get millions of fans, and make millions of dollars all because you can swear rhythmically.


Peace out, dawg.

Homie Leko has left the hizz-ouse, yo!

Word, G.