E-40 - Look at Me lyrics

BEYOTCH! [Intro] Whas happenin, whas happenin? You got to love this yere n**uh My boys, my Hot Boys Juve and ?? Bout to lace this game n***a Do it the way we do it with E-4-0 Charlie Hustle [B.G.] Look, I went from rags to riches, stank hoes to bad b**hes Stealin n***as cars to TV's in Expeditions Thuggin is how I play it everyday all day I keep it all the way real I can't see it no other way I represent mines, Hot Boys Slip up my whole click rides, get shot boy That's how it go; we straight do or die - we checkmate holdin n***as Then come where yo' momma lay down and kick in the do' n***a (Juvenile! Juvenile! Juvenile!) [Juvenile] Let's get this sh** cracklin My probation officer's gonna know what happened Stay out the way I'm H-O-T and bout that action Hooded up with dem slugs and face-maskin, camouflage fashion I'm all about that luxury (luxury) - I'm also bout Puttin 50 in yo' head boy if you thinkin bout f**in me I'mma be here fo' a minute (what else?) you gotta respect it (uh-huh) There's a lot of n***as out here gettin k**ed to accept it BEYOTCH! [Chorus: E-40 and Hot Boys (repeat 2X)] Freezer burn platinum on my pinkie (LOOK AT ME) Squattin twenty inch Twinkies (LOOK AT ME) I'm like that! It's like that! WHAT? I'm like that! It's like that! (LOOK AT ME) [E-40] Charlie Hustle on it in the fast lane, drivin slow With a case of tall cans and some broccoli and a bad-a** ho Squattin four times ga-uh gold Zenith wides and vogues Bout snuffin down, right next to me, is the call from the frogs Uhh - sound system on bloo-blam-blam Puffin on the doobie almost grubbed, dang it burnt in my lap Smokin trees with the window up (windows up) Traffic backed up, middle finger up I don't a**ociate or surround myself with C.I.'s Confidential Informants snitches affadavits stool pigeons Marks simple Simon s**er sap simps I be kickin it real tough With the, P.I.'s, hustlers, tycoons Gangsters k**ers that might not even look like With trophies up under they shelf, sky ballers, all kind of Benzes Player type individuals, thugged out times a thousand Those n**uh-ish n***aroles lieutenants bosses, gazillionaires New millenium wars high rollers real as hoodlums thugs House parties strip joints gamblin shacks and hole in the wall clubs BEYOTCH! [Chorus] [Baby] Man, it's like neighborhood sh** with a gangster b**h So get yo' paper straight n***a and go and buy some sh** TV's inside when I ride b**h And I'mma hide these hoes behind limo tints Fulfill my dreams I'm a rich b**h And when I hit yo' hood I'mma blind a b**h Shine, tape sellin got me buyin sh** Dyin? Gon' be here past ninety-nine, slick Rewind, these hoes back to time slick So n***a slap that b**h, bat that batch Kick her in the a** and tell that ho Hot Boy in this b**h So n***a f** that b**h, tell her s** yo' dick [Lil' Wayne] Now, now Here come the youngest, Wayne, you can call me Weezy Flyin up the interstate in a Lamborghini Police right behind me, I'm drivin too fast I pull over on the gra**, they want my autograph I flipped off ki's, I get my G's I spit my 3's if you twist my cheese I'm duckin white sheets and I avoid the Feds If you think that you can stop us - boy go ahead [Chorus] BEYOTCH! [Outro: Juvenile] E-Feezy and the HB's in this motherf**er man (the Hot Boys) Juvenile (Bosco) you heard about me The B.G. (uh-huh) the number one stun'na (uh-huh, uh-huh) Baby Thirty-Two Gold ya heard me? The Bay Area, and the U-P-T (uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh) We connected n***a, you gotta respect it It's off the heezy Uhh, uhh (what, BEYOTCH!)