Mo’ Mail - Intellectual

[Intro: E-40 & G-Nut]

Ah fuck it

Ah y'all got your nigga E-40 in this motherfucker

I buzzin, finna step in

Kickin it in the Fac house motherfucker

Ay, G-Nut, Spice, Xtra-Large

Let em have it

[Verse 1: Spice 1]

Went out the house, I think it was a Sunday

Nigga was runnin with drop top drop havin a fun-day

Kickin it with my niggas up on the block

Talkin shit drinkin Crooked I

I got the fat head rush from the chocolate Thai

I'm feelin good I wanna kick it and hang out

But when the drive-by hit this is the main route

What the fuck is my problem nigga?

I got a Glock seventeen better gobble them

So why should I trip, load the clip, put the joint to my lip

Get the motherfuckin forty, take a real ass nigga hit

I'm sittin on my gat thinkin shit is cool

Some niggas roll up in an old school

I ain't trippin, ay G you know this nigga's face

I heard the motherfuckin bass

Of a sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump

Musty dead bodies and a catty bump, trump

Smellin up the neighborhood lyin in the bushes

Somebody had mo' mail than the rest of the pushers

[Interlude: E-40]

Yeah, I'm just a hustler

Spice-1, you know some hustlers on the go boy

Look here, ay look here

They got schemes and scandals out there right?

When that funk is on this nigga

Check fan, the motherfucker gotta be about

As grits and gravy in order to maintain

So society is a motherfucker, ain't it?

Ay, what about those niggas on your dick nigga?

Ice, spit some shit about that shit nigga

[Verse 2: Spice 1]

Get off my dick nigga get your own motherfuckers

Steady mobbin, gaffle the motherfuckers 'cause my jobbing

Shootin up motherfuckers was my hobby

Stop the tec-eleven on two-eleven I did a robbery

Shot the mothefucker is grenades that I be lobbin

Lowin the motherfuckers like a new pair of Levi's and

Used to think the cops were so motherfuckin friendly

Till they tied my cousin to a chair and broke his chin, G

My homie's motherfuckin head like a melon

Slavery is abolished except if ya a convicted felon

So dear Mr. Officer of the motherfuckin law

Rodney King don't need a trial, what was seen was what was saw

You could take the niggas up out the motherfuckin ghetto

But you can't take the ghetto up out the motherfuckin niggas

Can't you hear the voice of the niggas comin at cha?

Fuck you Mr. President, I think I wanna gat ya

I need more mail than the rest of the pushers

Mo' mail than the rest of the piles

[Interlude: E-40]

I can't get enough, good, good

Good shit motherfucker good shit

I think I'm a little jet drunk motherfuck

Ay, look here ay I'm off this Liquorice Rainall boy

You understand that don't ya

Huh, you feel it

Ay, ay look here nigga, ay

What I want you to do boy, drop that other shit

[Verse 3: Spice 1]

I'll make this gat sing like motherfuckin Mary J. Blige

And reminisce on hearin a nigga's last breath when he slowly die

Stang his ass in the chest with the hollow

Capped him in his thr-thr-throat so he can't swallow

R-a-rat t-a-tat put a buck in y'all

The motherfuckin six-foot Chucky doll

Comin to play with the trigger of the AK

Another real ass nigga from the East Bay

B-U-L-L-E-T-P-R-O-O-F?

For the niggas who kid yourself by losin your fuckin death

Blaow! Blaow!

Cap, we do it just like that

Quick to put a motherfucker brains in his lap

Smokin up a blunt as I reminisce

Of bloody body bags, a motherfucker going nutty

Blaow! Blaow!

Po' bust a knowledge route

Brown, notify his family, fuck it, send his fingers home

'Cause the shit get major, I put the mortuary number up on his pager

Bitch, don't fuck with me

I know a gang of niggas that will shoot it up with me

I need mo' mail than the rest of the pushers

(Outro: E-40)

It's the S, the P, the I-C-E with ya nigga E-40 (the pervin swervin)

Roll in to the curb and die

These motherfuckers don't understand this shit boy

This shit is so damn real man

Ay, nineteen ninety-tre-four-five

Ay, I got one of them

"Mo' mail than the rest of the pushers"