Turn Up The Music Lyrics

Turn up the music

[Chorus x4: E-40]
["Turn up the music!" x3] Turn up the music

Pockets starvin, niggaz hurtin, money gone (money gone)
It's kinda like tryin to pass a kidney stone (kidney
But I got hustle in my veins in my bones in my skin
Motherf**ker I'm a win!
One foot in the grave (grave) the other one in the pen
One hand on the scale (scale) the other one on my
Heartless, empty the cartridge raw
Darkness, get out of Dodge so far
Now I don't look for trouble but trouble be always
seemin to find me
Suckers don't wanna schuffle but suckers'll rather try
to die me
Blind me, grimey, sneak up right behind me
Creep up on a fixture and give it to a nigga [BLAOW! ]
You might be slick mayne, but I'm much slicker (I'm
much slicker)
You might be sick mayne, but I'm much sicker (I'm much
That's yo' wife mayne, but she my ripper
What'chu want peeyimp?


Watch this though...
I was talkin to my mentor, look what I do
I said that I tell him I told him you don't know what
I've been through
You don't know what I can do, you don't see what I can
But I'm a listen to you cause you my motherf**kin O.G.
You can learn from an infant, you can learn from a baby
You can learn from a dopefiend that appear to be crazy
Family I'm lifted like a toilet seat, high as f**k I'm
But there's somethin about that hit on me that make a
hustler angry
With a slap like this that make my next door neighbors
wanna hate me
Call up police and snitch report a hustler to the
Man I'm about my chips, I'm concrete and I'm solid
Rubber bands, f**k a money clip or wallet (wallet)
Send a sucker to hell or either heaven
With my AK-47 or my FM-57
.62, my Mac-11 make you sing the blues
Blow you out your shoes, your only clue is Headline


Uhhh! Turn up the music
Never pull a pistol if you ain't plannin on usin it
And around around it goes
Roamin stop nobody, no skatin in my Oldsssssss-mobile
Sittin on top of the hill
Smokin on some kill, burnin the rubber off my wheels
Lettin her know that I'm for real, showin off my skill
Me and my, redbone, french and black, maybe Creole
I'd rather not shoot you, I'd rather fight
I just look like this but I'll be the first one to
f**ked this broad the other night
Had the mm-mmm, her monkey was hella tight
Her ex lookin like he wanna take flight
Knowin that the nigga softer than a baby wipe
He tryin to prove it, I knew it, and that fluid'll do
Before I lose it... turn up the music (beitch!)


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Songwriter(s): Earl Stevens, Ricardo Thomas
Record Label(s): 2010 Heavy On The Grind Entertainment
Official lyrics by

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