E-40 - Ballin' Outta Control

Pushed in the game at a young age
Feel me touch me as I turn the page
A little past ten, roughly about
eleven years old TRAPPED IN A GHETTO CAGE
My scratch is smellin sour and it's stinkin
got a nigga seriously thinkin
"How can I kill this odor, and purchase me a Lincoln?"
Minimum wage flippin patties - nope

I'd rather fuck around with Coca-Cola, yola
Ice cream, candy, granola, huh
Slave for men - that's what they told me
and I'll break you off somethin suitable
Brought you a key of crack quicker than ?
? recoupable
? future black and beautiful
My partners used to be plucked and ugly
Hangin around them old squeegee boys
Man them the motherfuckers that have love for me
They straight cut for me Deal me, touch me, L-O-V-E
E-to-the-F-to-the-R-T-Y
I spits the shit from the T-O-P
It's me, the E, droppin it nuclear all the time
Motherfucker comin from the motherfuckin MIND
Fuck you niggaz, you think I sell my soul
But I'm way too cold, motherfucker!

Chorus: LeVitti

Sittin in my livin room
Thinkin of, a master plan
Tryin to find a way out
HOW TO STACH the scratch
So I painted me a picture
of a life, to make a dream
Can you feel me now
Ballin outta control, ballin outta control

Fresh off the