E-40, Grimace Federation - Gas, Break, Dip lyrics

[E-40, Grimace Federation - Gas, Break, Dip lyrics]

(static) Calling all hustlers
Calling all players
Please report to your scraper
Turn the ignition on, open all four doors
And commence to slapping, thank you (static)
(Gas break, LOUDER)
40 Water federation, E-40 bOTCH!

Gas break, dip, then scrape
Sideshows, donuts, figure eights then

Aight, look, look here man
Look i live my life like any
Day can be my life fools be tryin to hit me
Like a porno website i pulls up in the Chevy
With them Rally Racer stripes
Some of my fellas on Harley Davidson bikes
With they lights on, in the daytime
The opposite of night
With them growlin-ass pipes ridin
30 deep with a broad on the backseat
Highsidin tycoonin and timin
Strivin and grindin to get my money on
Rappin and rhymin
Tryin to go diamond and talkin on my phone
With the music slappin, slappin this song
They say I'm wrong
Cause, I be poppin it at these hoes
Fo' tears when I'm off Patron
Sucker repellant cologne I put on
When I leave my home
My 45 pistol chrome bust a nigga shit
Bust a dome
Yo' bread is midget and dwarf, like a Hobbit
My yaper is long and
Lanky like Peja Stojaković
Tall like the mileage on my 70 Cutlass-es
Gas break and dip and then scrapin
It with my loved ones

I'm out the sunroof, gone off that rotgut
Straight scrape
That's the sound when the shocks touch
White walls whistlin pipes, Harley D stickers
Candy paint straight coonin, look at me nigga
Get my scratch, all about my mail - uhh
Ant, Stress, and Doonie
Them boys from the fields
Gas, break, dip, scrape
Smoke it, up, figure eight
How I scrape? Goldie's a eight
Pull up, dig in my nose
And give you handshake
40-Agua, lent me the Range
(love some bam shit)
Cross my fingers put it on
Citas I won't crash it
But my drink's spiked, so I just might
Dent a bumper or two, and bust a headlight
Now, all my niggas in they scrapers
(DO'S OPEN)
Bucket or Benz (get that Vogue meat smokin)

Okayyyy, okayyyy
'96 Cutlass, mayonnaise and mustard
Dusted and disgusted but my guts like custard
Green caramel, Too $hort, "Freaky Tales"
Bumpin in the zoney, pimpin tenderonis
Blueberry blunt wrapped with a Rick Rock slap
Like Busta Rhymes
Make they gun booty cheek clap
Stop by the trap, shoot a few craps
Don't trust na'r a nigga
Keep the strap on my lap
Cell phone might be tapped
So we speak in all slang
That's why the white folk think
That we all strange
People in the back of me see the TV's
Ant scrapin tough like a pair of Dungarees
Coonin E-Feez, on Myrtle Beach
Carlos Rossi, where the turtle growin trees
My na'r na'an nutta make all the hoes stutter
Gas break dip bend the pussy then cut her

Punch the gas then break (then break)
Then dip
(then dip) then scrape (scrape scrape)

Gas, break, gas, break

(static) This was an official, Sic'Wid It
Federation slap
You may now, close your scraper doors
And go home thank you

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