E-40 - Growing Up Lyrics

Writer(s) : STEVENS, EARL T. / WHITEMON, MARVIN / HARDY, ANTONIO M. / HALL, MARCEL THEO / WILLIAMS, MARLON
Artist: E-40 Lyrics
Popularity : 50 users have visited this page.
Album: Track 3 on Tha Hall of Game
Rate: Growing Up gets avg. rating 5 out of 10 based on 7 ratings. Rate the song now!!!

I'm a little mannish ************
I take after my older brother
Started off selling marijuana, but now I'm selling yola"

Here take a swig of this bourbon
Hit that, hit that baby
Aight dude, ay who who's foolin' right there? (who dat?)
Aight ***** ay get down *****
Ay ***** get down *****! ay ***** get down ***** (****!)

Wha', we about
Seventy-five extra mail mannish hard-headed hoodlum-*** *****s
On the dope track workin' overtime full of ****in 'd' (d!)
Runnin' through somewhere in the neighborhood
Of about seven-hundred thousand in illegal narcotics
Generatin' through mah street, a week
Why ************s gotta ask me how I'm doin' if I'm alright?
When a ************'s starvin' and strugglin'
Even on my hip pretty much needlin' and jugglin'
There still ain't gonna never be enough lovin!
I'm tired of rippin' and runnin', dodgin' and duckin' bullets
I know my time is comin', death is on me bad
The walls is closin' in, I wish I had a dad
But left when I was ten, so moms is all I had
And she was there for me until I ran away from the pad
And now she disowned me and she don't claim me
Reverend wouldja put some blessin' oil on my head
Before I end up dead, gall bladder full of lead - scared
I guess a hard-head make a soft-*** ?
I ain't gon' last if I keep ****in' with this fast life

[Chorus: x2]
He would grow up to be nothin' but a hoodlum
Or either in jail, or someone would shoot him, uh
(he would grow up to be nothin' but a hoodlum
Or either in jail, or someone would shoot him)

Ah, I page my ties even though the money's filthy
Don't wanna go to church, because I feel guilty
Nope - I don't wanna die, cause when the preacher preach the gospel
I be ready to cry, up in the church of pentecostal
I don't think I'm a make it to see twenty-five
Til I wash my hands and come clean
**** I'll be hella happy if I can just live to see sixteen
No life to give for that nastiness
As a rebellious disobedient-*** problem child
He's easily influenced, hangin' around the wrong crowd
I'm willin' to do almost anything,
Whatever it takes to make my allowance
I'm on prescription medication, chemically off-balance
Got me snatchin' up ? pickin' up hits
Pick-pickin' indo's (do's), and pullin' licks

[Chorus]

But daddy? (yes son) tie my shoes (okay) lace me up (uh)
Hook me up, like a tow-track man (aight)
Ear-hustlin', make like a pampered suck-up game-a-saur (what?)
When it comes to this thang man I'm connoisseur (connoisseur)
I read through the punk registry in the robb report (what?)
I come off like dat
Grew up around slick talkers (ah)
A pa-a poppin' con artists (what?)
Go straight to the ? and get a bad leather jacket
? bankrupt!

Boy you,
Like you when I was younger
But I got my life together
And I bettered myself as I got older
Na-uh now I entertain (entertain)
A sss-uh, a-smeb rover (a smeb rover)
Street smarts with a degree and a diploma

[Chorus: x2]

Ah give it to me, uh
Uh
Uh
Come on, uh
Give it to me, uh


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Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, CAK MUSIC PUBLISHING, INC
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