الأغاني:
E 40 The Ball Street Journal

be around for a minute So get used to it, I was through with it Before most of you marshmallows knew want to do with it Pushing them zones, serving that drome Balling

Til the po po's headquarters up a hub station in our hood A lot of these rappers don't even sound like they believable But you can ask your daddy and uncle about E

A cougar, 40 years cold 40 ounce of brew, 40 this, 40 that 40 at the crap table shooting 40 stacks 40 thousands fans, 40 niggas on stage I heard 40's 40 but 40

but most the times I be blitzed I'm having my gouda, my nigga, all on her bitch We ball like we hoopers, my nigga, we hood rich We winning not losing

a nigg what ups we got some lame as niggas they words dont fade me bruh do they know were we from tell them they need a latter to get on our hype shitt

I punch the gas, I hit the brakes I punch the gas, I hit the brakes I punch the gas, I hit the brakes I punch the gas, I hit the brakes The poor man'

winter, play me in the summer Play me in the order, any order We got another one pimp Rock, wake 'em up, boy Sick with 'em records, E40, Warner Brothers

than all outdoors, she got booty galore Ass like I've never even seen before She cakey, she pickin' up her money off the floor It's crazy all the ballers

bobbin' so she can follow me to my ride So I can make a dentist to convince her to open wide Kick her out when I'm finished, take my baller ass back