My Stapler E-40 & Too $hort
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "My Stapler" by E-40 & Too $hort. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Chorus: E-40]
You better have a bulletproof vest
'Cause these niggas out here, they be some haters
(Haters, mayne)
It's sick out on these streets, tryna stay up on your feet
Everybody got a Kater (Everybody got a Kater)
Don't, don't leave the house without your stapler
Don't, don't leave the house without your stapler
Don't, don't leave the house without your stapler
Don't, don't leave the house without your stapler
[Verse 1: E-40]
I wanna come home, so I don't leave my home
Without my stapler, Rollo, thumper, pistol, chrome
'Cause they'll try to dome you where I'm at and where I'm from
Killafornia, walk up to you with a drum
Most of the time over somethin' small and hella dumb
Like sayin' some stupid shit when you're drunk
You could plot your own demise by what comes from your tongue
Don't get killed behind a bitch 'cause you hella sprung
I was raised around older folks that lived a fast pace
Went to Gamed Up University where they lace the unlaced
Don't make me whip out on a nigga, stay tucked
They don't play by the rules no more, not even the people that made 'em up
UH! Ain't no refunds or no rebate
They'll put a hole in your face like a milk crate
Ain't no talkin' no more, these niggas don't debate
They appear to be real but they really fidnake (BIATCH!)
You better have a bulletproof vest
'Cause these niggas out here, they be some haters
(Haters, mayne)
It's sick out on these streets, tryna stay up on your feet
Everybody got a Kater (Everybody got a Kater)
Don't, don't leave the house without your stapler
Don't, don't leave the house without your stapler
Don't, don't leave the house without your stapler
Don't, don't leave the house without your stapler
[Verse 1: E-40]
I wanna come home, so I don't leave my home
Without my stapler, Rollo, thumper, pistol, chrome
'Cause they'll try to dome you where I'm at and where I'm from
Killafornia, walk up to you with a drum
Most of the time over somethin' small and hella dumb
Like sayin' some stupid shit when you're drunk
You could plot your own demise by what comes from your tongue
Don't get killed behind a bitch 'cause you hella sprung
I was raised around older folks that lived a fast pace
Went to Gamed Up University where they lace the unlaced
Don't make me whip out on a nigga, stay tucked
They don't play by the rules no more, not even the people that made 'em up
UH! Ain't no refunds or no rebate
They'll put a hole in your face like a milk crate
Ain't no talkin' no more, these niggas don't debate
They appear to be real but they really fidnake (BIATCH!)
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