[Intro: E-40]
Weeble-lations!!
Weeble-lations testin, testin
Testin, testin
Hey, turn my mic up, this a bitch, I got my dudes up in this mutha
Fucka, that boy Eightball, 4-Tay, Speeze-weeze, Spice-weeze, ya smell
Me? It's E-feeze. Mutha fuckaz ain't understandin the signs of this, I
Cuss a mutha fucka out

[Verse 1: Eightball]
N***as gonna be feelin, what I'm revealin
Tryin to do some healin, an at the same time make a million
Vibrate love an happiness in this ghetto maze
Hate us playaz got this ryhme stayin in a rage
Kill wit a pill, broke game like Nintendo
Three hours an fourty-four minutes straight to Frisco
Bumpin the Rappin, 4-Tayzee baby
Me an 40 Water in the big body Mercedez

[Verse 2: Rappin 4-Tay]
Four hundred, five hundred V-12 black coupe
None of my weebles wake that barkley comin out the roof
Choppin major game on the strength
Man we goes back juss like them splinters an 'em temps, uh
Met this bitch that was in Houston, said she was from Houston
Said her profession was stackin major paper roll
First at times it seems, gold credit cards we get that ass
Went from bennies to bossalini's, collectin cash
They whistlin, I'm glistin like Sammy Davis
Born an raised in the Bay them hataz can't fade us
I am the rapper that they call 4-Tay
360 degrees, they can't fade the Yay, fool
[Verse 3: Eightball]
Fuckin off in the Bay wit some crazy n***as
Gettin drunk, gettin high so they saved ya n***a
From the bottom of the stream to the top of the mountian
In the "O" straight clownin
Talkin bout whats goin down an
These n***as feelin me
Soakin up the love I give
N***a all of us got kids, an only got one life to live
But sometimes that shit don't matta
Animosity can lead we to ratta-tatta
Splatta
All over shit, an leave tricks motionless
Drinkin blood like I, an spittin fire like kiss
The only n***a sick as this
Behind me
Is the gangsta, S-P-I-C-E

[Verse 4: Spice-1]
Yeah smell me
Yo five albums in the game
500 Benzo in my name
Five n***as in a bucket
Five zig-zags to the brain
To the greedy lil paper, I'm on the MTV news
I'm havin slugs fo shistey n***as, tryin ta give me the blues
I ain't a mutha fuckin Italian
But my crew run like the Mafia
Eightball, 4-Tay, Banks, an 40 Water
An me Bossalini, Freddy Chico, Chanelle shit
Met a couple of inncidents where some n***as tried to kill me
Juss a part of the game
Jelous n***as out fo fame
When steady bustin at me
Is to give no names
But when they runnin up on this muthafuckin Don
They catchin pieces of hell
Hot slugs from a n***a that's fresh out on bail
[Verse 5: Eightball]
Long time comin baby
Somewhere off in the hills
Me an 40 Waters choppin it up, keep or kill
On the real about this underground lifestyle
Intoxicated
An always heavily sedated
Bank's rocks the beat
I grab the mic an bust
Turn into a monster
Eatin weak mc's up
Smokin trees up
Pinnin hoes knees up
Feds wouldn't ease up
Had to put the keys up
Findin Jesus prayin fo the weak
Hopin somebody's on they knees prayin fo me
In the midnight hour somewhere on them drugs
In a room full 'o thugs, 40 tell em how it was

[Verse 6: E-40]
They shot my mama's house up, back in 1992 ('92)
I keep goin back an play possum like I don't know who
If I knew who, what, when, where an how
If I knew back then, would I know now?
The rap game ain't never gonna be decreasin
The only thing the rap game
Gonna keep on doin is increasin (increasin)
There will be no over-night sensations
Them 40, Eightball, MJG, only drip
We been layin it down since trout season
Now all of a sudden I look good as Toni Braxton
In a white house wit toys of traction
Uppercussion, ya may wanna take a second look
You can find me in the Florida designs book
The hall of game, is a 420 wit chrome rims all day (all day)
Parked up on ???
N***a this ain't none of that
Only reason I'm doin a song wit dude an 'em is cuz I want they region
Recognize game, game recognize game
Can't be no bigga pimp than me n***a
[Chorus]
360 degrees of game
Talkin bout game
Talkin bout game
360 degrees of game
Wit hella bomb on the brain
360 degrees of game
Talkin bout game
Talkin bout game
360 degrees of game
Wit hella bomb on the brain