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"[E-40] The definition of quarterbackin' *Scratched* the quarterback.. [Verse 1 - Malice] Tell the cops don't read into it Them days of slangin' yay been finished, them days have been done ended So far gone them days that I'm offended Snitches can't speak my name till they get winded Can't you tell there's been a switch made? Now fellas decide that they wanna run and tell like in the fifth grade But I'm too gone, young'n be clear Even when you see me, I am not really there And I ain't play fair wit' my eye on the enemy Huggin' the block just me and my mini-me Did it and lived it, grinded here Cops fillin' wit' my projects find it yeah Not only was I in the game, I was gifted in it Served food to the fiends and we called 'em dinners Put the raw wit' the fake out, mixed it in it Can't explain the cat's hustle, guess it just was in It's Malicious [Chorus - E-40] If you got the turf crackin' and ya money's stackin', ya Quarterbackin', Quarterbackin' Leader of the squad and your the team captain Quaterbackin', Quarterbackin' Gotta little change and ya drivin' a range Quarterbackin', Quarterbackin' If ya sound system bangs, and ya pushin' them thangs Quarterbackin', Quarterbackin' [Verse 2 - E-40] Might not know what I'm talkin' about If you ain't never lived it, or seen it, or done it Seen fiends vomit, green stuff I had to clean it up wit' comet Mean stuff, so many deaths my streets is haunted Believe us, you shoulda seen us, like Wile E. Coyote, man super genius Against all odds like Serena and Venus I only had a couple jobs in my life, but not too many thought I was grown Who woulda thought I'd sell my skill for a microphone And be rappin' about it up in the song, slidin' on some chrome It's long money I earn, I'm bald headed, but I used to have a lord Jesus perm When my name was earl before the rap game Runnin' from secret squirrel, I had my own thang Raised by wolves, hyenas, and barracudas, gorillas and bulls [Chorus] [Pusha T] I play the field like Vick, from endzone to endzone Serve that ish like snowcones in the hood Entrenched in the gutter, I was lost in the good Cuz I make the gat stutta like a old G should Mamas lookin, so much snookin' Nights in the kitchen thought I'd never finish cookin' Way before pay for this that I'm mouthin' 19 years young, upward of 80 thousand Trust me young'n Pusha was never browsin' for nothin' section 8 housin' I'm stompin' thru like King Kong claimin' his home, his jungle Mumblers beware the hood hates singers I connect, block the corner like Jenga, fall never, you seen 'em Posted in the hood leanin' fiends like the Tower of Pisa Damn he's good.. [Chorus x2] [E-40 - Talking] Now of course you know I ain't talkin' about sports I'm talkin' about runnin some shit I'm talkin' about workestratin' and illustratin' Glorifyin' ya paper route Whether it serve it to, uh.. Gettin' out there hustlin', grittin' and grindin' Doin' ya thug-thizzlemajiggadale Quarterbackin' man, hustlin' main Trust that main, yeah, in real life main Some call it pitchin', some call it grindin' We call it Quarterbackin' Yeah, and I ain't talkin' about sports, trust that main.. {*scratched until fade: The Quarterback*} "