E-40 I'ma Teach Ya How to Sell Dope Lyrics

Revenue Retrievin': Day Shift Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 Back in Business
  • 2 Whip It Up
  • 3 Bitch
  • 4 Undastandz Me
  • 5 Duck
  • 6 I Get Down
  • 7 The Art of Story Tellin'
  • 8 Fuck You Right
  • 9 This a Boy
  • 10 I'ma Teach Ya How to Sell Dope
  • 11 The Weedman
  • 12 Lightweight Jammin'
  • 13 Everyday Is a Weekend
  • 14 Got It
  • 15 Rick Rock Horns
  • 16 Dem Boyz
  • 17 Outta Control
  • 18 All I Need
  • 19 It's Gotta Get Betta
  • Bust open the yola, then you throw it in the pot
    Mix that soda with that water, make that motherfucker lock
    Chop it up and bag it, then ya flood the whole block
    With that candy, cha-cha, white lobster, ready rock

    (Dope)
    (Dope)
    (Dope)
    (Do-do-dope)
    (I'ma teach you how to sell)
    (I'ma teach you how to sell)
    (I'ma teach you how to sell)
    (I'ma teach you how to sell dope)

    The money come fast when pushin them grams
    You get what you can, there's no retirement plan

    [VERSE 1:]
    Every move that I make is a calculated step
    Gotta be careful what you say and who you conversatin with
    I came in the game with nada, I left with a couple of dollars
    That's the way I wanna be remembered up in this here yola game, partner
    See, it's 'posed to be temporarily and momentarily but I'm stubborn
    I put everything in my alias, I don't put nothin in my government
    Stay with a cinnamon roll extension, extra cartridge drawn
    Ain't no retirement plan or pension, catch you slippin, run
    I got straight A's across the board, my ghetto report card never flunked
    They gon' have to kill me on the spot, I ain't gettin off in nobody's trunk
    Never take my chances by fuckin them up and punch
    Scuffle and try to take his gun
    I rather get a flesh wound 'stead of land up in attendance
    "Throw me a stimulus package, my niggga, throw your nigga a bone"
    That's what my OG said to me when he touched down, when he came home
    I reached up in my pizznockets, shot him a thou-wow and a zone
    Got a digital scale application on my iPhone

    [VERSE 2:]
    If you plan on goin to yolanary school, one of the first things they teach ya
    Give your mama enough money to bury ya
    And if you're backed up in a corner and the po-po Elroy question you
    Never give up yo plug and tell on you or your crew
    Some of the perks and amenities and benefits of sellin D
    If you a ghetto celebrity you can almost get anything for free
    Bitches gon' wanna fuck ya, and niggas gon' wanna be ya
    Haters gon' wanna pluck ya, so you better pack a (?)
    Every swing of the bat, every snap of the ball, every lay-up (?) counts
    I know some dudes that been gridin for years and the police still ain't never found
    No cha-cha, no dope on 'em, you know why, cause he don't touch it
    And he don' be braggin, flycoonin and showin off, he drive a bucket
    We didn't bring in all this dope, you traffic patrollin coast guard
    We don't own no planes and boats, in the ghetto we got it hard
    I'ma keep it all the way 300, I'ma keep it all the way funky and solid
    I got mo' partners behind them walls than I do in college

    [VERSE 3:]
    Ridin with a couple of bricks, and the police on yo hips?
    Take they ass on a high speed, throw the (?) over the bridge
    And if it ain't no water around, throw that shit up on a roof
    That way it ain't hand to hand and they ain't got no proof
    Always let somebody in your circuit know who you coppin your sugar from
    Just in case you end up, wind up havin a little more dough than him
    Cause dudes be gettin jealous and put yo head on a platter
    Funkin lesson number seven - never outshine the master
    In the cha-cha game, wanna know how to sell dope proper?
    One of the things you better do is go to your local trucker store and purchase a kick do stopper
    Made by Master Lock and under yo mattress in yo capness you better have a chopper
    Or a glock or a stapler or a thumper or a pistol
    A rifle or a Uzi for the smunkish and the goony
    Keep yo conversations limited, snitchin is prohibited
    Take it to the grave with ya, never say who did it
    Biatch

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