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e - 40 - go hard or go home lyrics

(feat. the federation)

introducing…e-40…the almighty…707…rick rock…federation…(whoooooo)

go [x9] hey hey.

go hard [x2]

[e-40]
ooh…verbal vomit…i keep one on it
not the scroll but you can call me ebonics
sideshows going nutty dumbing out
take the wrong turn and get your roof stomped out
old school vans doors open, me and my coupe
and some stoners we get high like sh-ggy from scooby doo
i’m whiskeyed, i’m hit, i ain’t go no patience
but i’m a couple tacos short of a combination
ooh…get on your head like a shovel from the gravel
when them scandalous dope deals be going sour
look how swivel the metal flower want the fast quarter f-ck a slow nickel 6 bucks an hour
from the rooter to the tooter he’s the driver i’m the shooter
don’t be f-cking with my goon
-rg-sms, high pots, and trill phones, sidekicks and ringtones
go hard or go home

[hook x8]
go hard…
go hard or go home

[goldie]
? to the moon i c–n like high school
my goons take no prisoners…what fool
what’s beef. (beef is when e-40’s on a fat verse)
swinging through the drive-through, smash the front
jackin’ off. if you’re from the yay, that’s what.
open up the doors, go (go) ?
sick, monkey on my back
psychos on my milk, won’t let me go
down my throat, yes (yes), cause (cause), buzz (buzz)
what (what), i (i), go (go), numb (numb)
slack folks like droop-e too
put thumb on the back like rick on the npc

[hook]

[interlude x4]
we jumping on the top, man, scr-pe h-lla cool
3 or 4 n-gg-s trying to cave in your roof

[stress]
little purp, cuss like a sailor
hammer on my waist tim the toolman taylor
get rich, hate being poor
my b-tch keep asking for juicy couture
in the club, you know we strapped up
my white tee shirt look like c-ke wrapped up
forces and jeans, can’t wear slacks
got good hair, no wave cap
smoke block, standing on the curb
same n-gg-s with me i been knowing since the 3rd
tryna get it, sucks being b-mmy
never should’ve give you n-gg-s money

[doon]
my b-tch wanna see drop h’s
grind more than haitians or jamaicans
ain’t about money, then ain’t got patience
don’t bring money, then don’t have relations
some like hannibal, i’m a mammal
ain’t with monkeys like mike and emmanuel
change the channel, rearrange panels
0-7 like the perm old cabby
and this baby she don’t bring patties
she can’t ride shotgun in the brougham caddy
pull my n-gg- in, let him count paint
don’t cut him off like j did dane

[hook]

sick wit it

- e lyrics

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