Ballin’ Outta Control E-40 (Ft. Levitti)

[Verse 1: E-40]
Pushed in the game at a young age
Feel me touch me as I turn the page
A little past ten, roughly about eleven years old trapped in a ghetto cage
My scratch is smellin' sour and it's stinkin'
Got a nigga seriously thinkin'
"How can I kill this odor, and purchase me a Lincoln?"
Minimum wage flippin' patties - nope
I'd rather fuck around with Coca-Cola, yola
Ice cream, candy, granola, huh
Slave for men - that's what they told me
And I'll break you off somethin' suitable
Brought you a key of crack quicker than you can bring me back
? recoupable
? future black and beautiful
My partners used to be plucked and ugly
Hangin around them old squeegee boys
Man them the motherfuckers that have love for me
They straight cut for me
Deal me, touch me, L-O-V-E
E-to-the-F-to-the-R-T-Y
I spits the shit from the T-O-P
It's me, the E, droppin it nuclear all the time
Motherfucker comin from the motherfuckin.. mud
Fuck you niggas, you think I sell my soul
But I'm way too cold, motherfucker!