[Intro]
[Malice] E-40 and the Clipse, yeah
[E-40] {*cut and scratch 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 5th 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 feelin where my crotch at, find it yeah
Not only was I in the game I was gifted in it
Served food to the fiends and we called them dinners
Put the raw wit the fakeout, mixed it in it
Can`t explain it, cats hustle guess it just was in us, Malicious
[Chorus - E-40]
If you got the turn cracking and ya money`s stackin`
Ya, quarterbackin`, quarterbackin`
Leader of the squad and you`re the team captain
Ya, quarterbackin`, quarterbackin`
Got a little change and you`re driving a Range
Ya, quarterbackin`, quarterbackin`
If you`re sound system bangs and you`re pushin them thangs
Ya, quarterbackin`, quarterbackin`
[Verse 2 - E-40]
Might not know what I`m talking about, if you ain`t never lived it
I see you`d a done it, see 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 Wild E. Coyote make super genius
Gets a lots 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 scale for a microphone
And be rapping about it up in this song, sliding on some chrome
Uh, this long money I earn, I`m bald-headed
But I used to have a Lord Jesus perm (Lord Jesus perm)
When my name was Earl, before the rap game
Running from Secret Squirrel, I had my own thang
I was raised by wolves, hyenas and barracudas, gorillas and bulls, uh
[Chorus]
[Verse 3 - Pusha T]
I play the field like Vick, from endzone to endzone
Serve that ish like snow cones in the hood
And trench in the gutter, I was lost to the good
Cause I make gat stutta, like an O.G. should
Mama`s lookin`, so mistooken
Night`s in the kitchen, thought I never finish cookin`
Way before, paid for this here that I`m mouthin`
Nineteen years young, upward of eighty-thousand
Trust me young`n, Pusha was never browsin` for nothing
Section 8, housing; I`m stomping through like King Kong
Claiming his home his jungle
Mumblers beware the hood hate singers
I connect block to corner like Jenga
Fall never, you seen em
Posting in ya hood, leaning fiends like the Tower of Piza
Damn he`s good
[Chorus x2]
[Outro - E-40]
Uh! Now of course ya know I ain`t talking about sports
(The Quarterback) I`m talking bout runnin` some shit
I`m taking about orchestrating and illustrating
And glorifying yo paper route
Getting out there hustling, grittin and grindin
Doing yo thug thizzle, magigledale
Quarterbackin man, hustlin` mayne
Trust that manye, yeah in real life mayne
Some call it pitchin`, some call it grindin`
We call it quarterbackin`
Yeah and I ain`t talking about sports
Trust that, oooh-ah
{*cut and scratch The Quarterback*} - [Til fade]
