E-40, B-Legit - Can You Feel It? lyrics

I got a plastic medicine container
Of that Afghani peep
Brought rolling papers, no chemicals
No bleach i’m about to be in there
To the point where I’mma blur my speech
After I finish this liter of yak
And blow this eighth of kief
Mannish, don’t bother me, I’ll pop ya
With these 5-point-5-6’s
Bust your medulla oblongata
That’ll stop ya, bring you up real proper
Spin you around like the
Propellers on a hiznelicopter
My name ain’t Harry, but I’m a Potter
My mouth hella dry, I need some water
One day I know I’mma die, forgive me Father
But, I’m living for now, forget tomorrow
I’m a product of my environment
So I ain’t thinking about retirement
I’mma continue to push this yay, fuck a 401
(K) i fuck on squaws every day
And I get my helmet ate'n
Parole violator, my agent hella be hatin’

"Can you feel it?"

I’m high as gasoline off promethazine
And my whole team
We lean in them Cut’ Supremes
I keep a couple things, plus a mask or two
A 40 Glock with a dot in case I have to
I might blast through, chop it up and bounce
My little homie, he be on me
Say I owe an ounce
I tell him ‘Catch me in the
Morning with your bank account
And I’ll just take it off the
Tab when you cash me out’
I do the mass amount of numbers
I’m impeccable and I ain’t even gon’ lie
I’m off them edibles
You see, my niggas come through
They buy them vegetables
And out-of-town muthafuckas need
Their medical
I put the work in, I get them dividends
And them Benjamins become a
Nigga’s best friend and everything I’m in
You know it’s off the hinge
It feel good when a real nigga win say it den

"Can you feel it?"

"Go on and get your fuck on"
That’s what I told her
I don’t want her triflin’ ass no more
Y’all can have my leftovers
I ain’t finna be head over
Heels over no broad, mayne, i’m too fly
I bait my hook up for another fish to fry
See, when a dude fuck hella broads
He’s a player
But when a broad fuck hella dudes
She’s a slut and you wanna know what else
You wanna know what? (What?)
I find out that she was fuckin’
On one of the homies
I’m fuckin’ ’em both up
I tell bitches where I’m from to
Leave their feelings at home
And if they’re listening
They probably ain’t feeling this song
But am I wrong? Standing there
Looking at me crazy
I’m never fuckin’ you when these
Other bitches pay me already with the baby
Come on with them dollars
I’ll show you where they’re going
Then them other hoes’ll follow
I’m off in my Impala, 9-fin exact
I just revamped that
Put them 10’s in the back