Master P

Get Your Paper

Master P


Featuring E 40] 
Master P: Ughhh! Ha ha! 
E 40: Oooo! Huh? P whats up boy? 
MP: Whats up 40 boy? 
E 40: Talk to me weepilation. 
MP: Dey dont know we been doin dis. 
E 40: Last Deezy Last Don. 
MP: Bay Area playa nigga. 
E 40: This E Feezy Fonzareezy your weepilation up out the Yea Area 
all day 
erytime. Like dis here. Element of 
Surprise. Da Last Don Charlie Hustle. Check it out. 
E 40: 
Let it be writ and said, done and published 
That on the sixth month of June 1998 
E-40 Fonzarellie AKA Charlie Hustleezy 
And my Third Ward weepilation 
From the No Limit Records Headquarters and congregation 
Plugged up and did a rumble together without no hesitation and erased 
Any Old School classic memories of Northern California 
Godzilla ballin and Bay stranglin and hustlin 
Morning, night, day in NOrleans 
And dang near fallin asleep on the freeway 
Bobbin and weavin and ditchin and dodgin po-po, penelope force 
Tryin to convince em that me and the dope game wasnt gettin along any 
how 
We had been went our separate ways 
Shit, we been had a divorce 
In and out of court, betta yet 
Neva was married any how and engaged 
Pushed in the game at a young age, trapped in a ghetto cage 
Went from hardly any to, uh, plenty of cash 
To, uh, high speed chases to, uh, makin a dash 
Uh, excuse me sir can I have your autograph 
And, uh, when your new album droppin fool 
That other shit was cool 
(Chorus) 
E-40: 
Get your money man, get your paper 
Get your paper man, get your money 
Get your fettie or your scratch, get your skrill 
Get your revvies man, get paid 
Get your mail man, get your marbles 
Get your marbles man, get your mail 
Get your grits, get your chettah, get your chips 
Get your snaps man, get paid 
Mater P: 
Ughhh! Ball wit da real, hang wit da Gs 
Started from Richmond, California to New Orleans 
Game wont change, these niggas cant fade me 
Mama still pray for baby 
Ghetto got me sick, dope fiends and crack heads 
Niggas on da front porch wit tech nines and lemon heads 
And all I want be is a soldier 
Cause Im tired of runnin from da rollas 
Jumped in da rap game and now dey cant hold us 
Ghetto millionaires and still blowin doja 
Keep my composure when times hectic 
Now I own a house in California, Orlando, and Texas 
And still run wit the thug niggas 
And made tapes for bitches and drug dealas 
And push 600 wit a bulletproof 
The ghetto Bill Gates 
The only president wit a gold tooth 
(Chorus) 
E-40: 
Uh, n-neva let your guards down 
Always play defense neva offense 
Cause suckas a try to make your kindness for weakness 
And damn sho try to shake your hand up unda falsified pretenses 
Sequence this 
Paint a portrait of these next events 
See if you can predict what I was about to say 
Within the next couple of sentences 
Technically impossible 
To hard to call 
See right when he thought I was gone throw a slider 
I threw him a knuckle ball 
Back against the wall, knockin niggas out (knockin niggas out) 
Hemmed up in da corner nigga thats what Im about 
Master P: 
Feel my pain, sometimes I feel trapped 
Nigga tired of hangin in the ghetto takin food stamps 
Cause this street life got me crazy 
But I hustle cause I gotta feed a baby 
And only God can take me 
And aint no nigga in this hood gone play me 
So when I ball Im a ball til I fizall 
And when Im gone put my name on the wizall 
(Chorus) 
[Ad-libs until end