Dusted ‘n’ Disgusted (Remix) Lyrics

E-40 Lyrics



I'm really not all that sure 'bout when things is finna mature
So let me find me a with a grip
And hit him hella quick with one a' them licks
Packing butches tips
I put that on The Click, The Click
Back to w-uh-work one of the homies just got dusted
Time to do some dirt, I never trusted
Them bustas shot him in the shirt, dead on arrival
Now the town is funky, it's called survival
What y'all wanna do? They got us skunked
Well-uh, if-uh, we can just-uh, if it was a fifth we'll all be drunk
I'm heated, fools cheated, played me false
We had a meeting, thangs 'posed been squashed
I noticed one that the double dribble done set him up y'all
She likes the Monie in the Middle, play tetherball
Thick bootch, high yellow city-slicker
Scarecrow creepin' Southern b*t*hes aka Posie Crapperfictious


See young tear up the chop and party on himself and funky bill
Pullin' out bills, frontin on material thangs, that's when I get to killing thangs
And settin' em up and havin' em catchin a couple of slugs
Sl-uh sl-uh slugs, tryna get with the savage thug
Pistol poppin' them fast, see playas been gettin' it twisted
It's that butch that killed ya, took all your money peeled ya
Seven killas run in ya house with AK's while tryna puttin' on his jimmy
Have the butch shoot off ya nutsack, before you can hit the broccoli
See money-a-made that hustla, that hustla didn't make that money
Let them butches jack him, it's either killas macked him
He's a busta, trickin' pranksta, y'all know the streets
That's why you broken, naked, layin' dead in between some bloody sheets
It's just a part of the game he didn't feel
Butchers will kill, get a playa, for his last d-uh dollar bill
You don't know that broad mayne that butch can't be trusted
Dusted and di-sgu-uh-sgu-uh-sgusted


Back to w-uh-work, one of the homies just got dusted
Whacha'll wanna do, whacha'll wanna do

Back to w-uh-work, one of the homies just got dusted
Whacha'll wanna do, I never trusted them bustas

Back to w-uh-work, one of the homies just got dusted
I never trusted them bustas

Back to w-uh-work, one of the homies just got dusted
Dusted 'n' disgusted


Let's let of some two or threes on the other side of t-uh-town
Draw the attention on the other s-uh-side of town
And wait for the popo shift to change, ghetto shootin' range
Revenge on the r-uh-rebound, war games
Droughts, ouch, lost clientele but I will prevail
By sellin' the broccoli dank instead of the crack cocaine
Try stuff to steal narcotics
When these funk MC's and butches be the reason why
The law be findin' them empty shells, Celly Cell


C-uh-Cel in the game full of faultiness
I got that heat that make them think before they crossin' this
Hard from the Valley, killa Cali game is all I know
Gotta sleep with a fo-fo, when I open, watchin' the front do'
Cause they be plottin' and schemin', slidin' these broads up under your weinie
Creepin' up in the dough with heaters while you dreamin'
Choppers in your face, squeeze until they get the scrill
Lead a body full of other sh*t behind the wheel
Drive in the ghetto while you scan'less up in the Bay
From day to day gotta watch me lay up under there while you stay
That's why I play for keeps, I play for me
I play for G and roll deep stayin' sucka free
Knee deep in the funk punk, I rock, skate, roll, bounce
And break em down like an ounce
Chop em in half, leave em six feet when they clown
When you be found when you're stacking through my stomping grounds

It's some cold - some cold
It's some cold - some cold
Some cold-hearted business


The California lifestyle that I live
Where the suckas is crooked and the haters wanna get
Ya stuck, we bubble up as we totin' on a
Bay Area playa, tryna have it all major
And a trick won't save ya, so I ain't playin Captain Save-Em though
I mob up in ya like a pro and then I'm gone
I'm like Sylvester Stallone, everyday is like a Cliffhanger
Action packed, I let the mini-mac stank ya


Yo let them gold diggers tax for cash
Clarity got smokin' on that hash
Can't have my stash, better go and take yo' hugga stash
Cause he's a busta, fingers with clusters
Diamonds on hit
When he slip up be the first to jack him fo' his grit
Never was no love for the mark-man, the lo pink
You love them butchy butches, can't let them butchy butches


Gank that , betta hide your cash and check her pa**
Pump your brakes playa, slow your roll, don't go too fast
Cause bulletproofs ain't doin no good no mo', no mo', no mo', no mo', man
Fools comin up dead with they brains blew out on the f-uh floor, damn
Hollow points to the face stash, flock through the vest, now r-uh-rest
Pull a plug on a flatline on pu'ose, one hater less
One hater less, from coast to coast, to the East to the West
Fresh in the flesh, them butches played a game of death
Look over your shoulder watch your back don't even trust it
I'm tryna told ya end up dusted


Back to w-uh-work, one of the homies just got dusted
Dusted 'n' disgusted





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