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letra de paint the picture - e-40

[intro sample]
i guess it must be so hard, that once you’re hooked on heroin, or alcohol, uh, unless you’re an incredibly powerful person with a great desire to stop it, even if you have the best rehab people in the world, it’s very hard to get off

[chorus: turf talk & (e-40)]
a dope fiend might be your momma
and you can get knocked off for a couple of dollars
(let me paint the picture)
the n-gga you grew up with might shoot at ya
hot bullets, n-gga, we ain’t throwing food at ya
that n-gga got a benz and a bentley thang
and he don’t play sports, he sell cocaine
(let me paint the picture)
n-gga k!ll a cop, get a hundred years
cop k!ll a n-gga, don’t n0body care

[verse 1: e-40]
ugh, p-ssy sidewalks and hallways
white chalk, candlelights, and bouquets
crime scene, sh-ll casings from the ak’s
donations, send the victim off the right way
and for revenge, worldwide they spending thousands
gotta be careful at these halfway houses
it’s sick out here, patience
double deuce thirds, and 5.56 casings
the neighbors ain’t tellin’ sh-t (tellin’ sh-t)
they mouthpiece is celibate (celibate)
i don’t condone the violence, turn the other cheek (cheek)
hard to deal with when your loved one’s deceased (deceased)
the funk’ll never end
when i’m done with rap i might become a reverend (a reverend?)
’cause i been spittin’ scriptures (spittin’ scriptures)
let me paint the picture!

[chorus: turf talk & (e-40)]
a dope fiend might be your mama
and you can get knocked off for a couple of dollars
(let me paint the picture)
the n-gga you grew up with might shoot at ya
hot bullets, n-gga, we ain’t throwing food at ya
that n-gga got a benz and a bentley thang
and he don’t play sports, he sell cocaine
(let me paint the picture)
n-gga k!ll a cop, get a hundred years
cop k!ll a n-gga, don’t n0body care

[verse 2: turf talk]
i know some raider n-ggas that’ll raid ya house
i’ll rob ya -ss and i’ll f-ck your spouse
hit ya cell phones ’til ya pay up
get that address and spray that b-tch up
r-t-rded b-tch, tell her watch the kids
’cause i’m out working and i’m murking sh-t
got my scarf on, got my gloves on
and i’m through the window like a bopper
she bet’ not make a move, she bet not make a peep
if she do, my partner gon’ strangle her
this the ghetto ,n-gga, ain’t no rules at all
and the punk police ain’t no friends of ours
i get credit at the liquor store ’cause i’m a regular
tell the owner i’ll be back soon as i get this fetti up
i’m selling dope, it ain’t no jobs (no jobs)
and we still trippin’ off trayvon (f-ck the police)

[verse 3: cousin fik]
fik, look, thinking to myself driving down i-80
has anybody noticed all these real moves lately?
the end is close, you gotta watch friends and folks
’cause you never know who the devil might send to smoke you
blood flowing through the streets; you look down, you drown
turned your tv on the scene how they dead mike brown
k!lled little trayvon, and said “stand your ground”
but gave marissa 20 years when it was the other way around
i’m like “f-ck,” n-ggas shooting, if i got enough time i might duck
n-ggas looting like we ain’t got enough crime, feel like i’m stuck
in the belly of the beast
my heart cold like a cheap ‘telly sheet
these hoes full of trife and deceit
magnum rubber on when i skeet
i can’t leave the block, i’m on the street
had the same clothes on for a week

- e 40

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