Songtext Straight like that E-40

Straight like that

I went from gettin’ a bag to hittin’ the dab
You can run off with the cash but I wouldn’t do that
Got hittas to blast, deliver the gas
Get a line on your ass then we run through that
Stocks when it’s rainin’, Forgi’s when the sun out
Whatever nigga do, please don’t bring the gun out
We be in the dugout; bitch probably dug out
Wherever money at, tell her B-la in route
Cookie, that’s my old bitch, I been had that
Jello and Gellato four door is a pack
Summertime dip season all at Durant's
Gon’ take the whole navy just to trim these plants
B-la got a plan though, AR commando
Mac named “Fernando”, daddy play the banjo
We gon’ take the plan slow and rock on out
Catch the early harvest, we gon’ crop y’all out

Uh, ay, ay, straight like that
Uh, ay, ay, straight like that
Uh, ay, ay, straight like that
Uh, ay, ay, straight like that

BIATCH! I’m on that fuel, that oil
Tycoon vodka and ginger beer in my cup, Moscow Mule
If I get caught with my tool, it’s gon’ be drastic
Rather be with than without instead of laying up in a casket
As a capitalist, it’s a habit, it’s magic, I make it happen
These bitches be on a player like a K-9 on a package
Every time that I’m on the phone I’m talking Pig Latin (Pig Latin)
"Baby girl" is when you rappin’ and you trizznappin’
I know a whole bunch of suckas that say they real but they some cowards
Without the liquor, the powder, the crystal meth and the pills
I grew up in the Hills on the other side of the gravel
Where we keep our lips sealed and we don’t talk, tell or tattle
I give back to my people as I should (as I should)
I don’t fuck with niggas that’s no good (that’s no good)
Do unto others as they do unto you
And never turn your back on your crew (real spill…BIATCH!)

Ay, ay, ay, straight like that
Ay, ay, ay, straight like that
Uh, ay, ay, straight like that
Uh, ay, ay, straight like that

Po-po handcuff us and put chains on us just like a tire
Like a car in the snow in Mount Washington New Hampshire
My bill straps on walrus, they hella fat and they blubbery
Might go to Caesars, spend 20 racks on some Burberry
The amount of bluebacks I’ve been making is stunning and groundbreaking
I be triplin’ and doublin’ my moola, ain’t no mistakin’
Earl Stevens out’chere movin’, I’m proven, no hustlin’ backwards
Hella rappers I thought was real need Emmys, they really actors
Non-factor, non-actor, don’t matter
Smoke fatter, bitch badder, zip shatter
Stick louder, click-clack it for chit-chatter
Brick stack, on the ground with six bangers
Moonlight, baby, I’m the child of the sun
You lookin’ like money, probably getting me some
Yeah, they lookin’ like dummy, you ain’t getting me none
Now I’m lookin’ back like, “Nigga, huh?” (Nigga, huh)

Ay, ay, ay, straight like that
Ay, ay, ay, straight like that
Uh, ay, ay, straight like that
Uh, ay, ay, straight like that
Uh…