Текст песни Hope I Don't Go Back (E-40) с переводом

Hoppin over barbed wire fences nigga

Had this one broad right, SHE was so damn sprung

she used to hold my motherfuckin. motherfuckin SAC nigga!

Thought you though, nigga

And a motherfuckin. V.H.S., uhh motherfuckin cannister

Nigga, yeah ay, I promise you nigga this game been so damn good

(Said this rap game’s been good to me)

Hard times

(But I don’t know how long that’s gonna be.)

Hope I don’t go back to slangin ya-yo

Slangin llello, to get my maillll

Verse One: E-40

Been a hustler since birth, mama sellin dinners for the church

Red-handed, caught me stealin money out her purse

Got branded, permanent whip scars on my back

Cause I used to get beat, with racing car tracks

But now me got wealth, holdin a conference call on my hands free car telephone lookin like I’m talkin to myself

Shootin the breeze cuttin it up real smooth like

choppin it up like true business men

Talkin about it, by the way

B — what we doin’this week on SoundScan?

If I ain’t in Japan, I’m in the Valley

Or maybe next door in Gary Payton bowling alley

Or maybe at the shootin range, me and Banks

Or on the golf course, with Merton Hanks

Or we lay in the sun, give me my propers

with a beat that’s out of this world, lookin down on doctors

Sippin on Port, watchin my kids play basketball

in the backyard on a 40 by 63 foot long sports court

Verse Two: E-40

Business spot up in the wilderness, coyotes and wild boars

Dupont registry aluminum pool table made strictly for outdoors

Twenty inch gold super Bravos on my? everybody ain’t able

to be blessed with success with an independent-ass record label

Check it out, marbles, I got the game from my Uncle Saint Char-les

Used to bank across the street at Wells Fargo

but now it’s Merrill Lynch

And just think, I used to sit the bench

I remember gettin chased by the cops, had to get my stomach pumped

full of a quarter ounce of rocks, late afternoon

Po-po waitin for me outside of Vallejo Kaiser Permanente

emergency room with glocks, ready to Rodney King me to death

Somehow I managed to make my escape through

the back of the cafeteria by the vending machine department quickly

Found myself runnin through the Friendship Apartment Complex

over there by the railroad tracks, around the corner from the

People’s Continuation High School

Somewhere off in Lofas, behind Je-nai's Liquor ooh

Verse Three: E-40

Get my mail, check it out, dope game ain’t goin

Now it seems the, white-collared crimes, are hookin up phones

Charlie Hustle, I got a few mathmatics

I’m doing a compilation, should I go with Phunky Phat Graph-X?

I tell them, Hell yeah that’s a done deal, dude them be off the hinges

Dude them did my cover and my bus benches

Game warrior invested, worldwide Sick-Wid-It shit, independent chips

BEYOOOOOOOOOTCH!

Ay see ay, I’ma tell you nigga

That’s the thing about this whole thing that jump off

It’s a fool cause a muh’fucka take his bloody money right

until he sit up there and he look and he say

Hold on man, hold on man

A muh’fucka, yknowmsayin?

You can either be at this shit

or you can be gone with this shit

and you look at it and then he say, Man hold on let me translate this shit — let me translate into some marbles

Let me liquidate my motherfuckin revenelles

You understand what I’m sayin? 40-Water now, you understand?

Ay, ay, but look, check this out

I’m here to sprinkle motherfuckers, lace they tennis shoes

Teach them about the motherfuckin game-orienfested situations

that goes down in the motherfuckin motherfuckin soils weepolations

I ain’t bullshittin niggaz!

. I don’t bullshit!

I ain’t bullshittin nigga!

There’s too many jealous brothers in this game

I can’t stany the same… I gotta get mine

Get my money on.

Don’t wanna go, don’t wanna go, don’t wanna go Don’t wanna go back — back to the game, heyyyy

To get your mail, BEYOOOOOOOTCH!

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