"Three Jobs" lyrics - E-40

E-40

"Three Jobs"

(Stresmatic)

UH!?Lord? Plaza, Payless Shoes, got my shoes for cheap
When my parents separated, I cried for weeks
Had a passion for music, beating on my desk
4th grade, Elsa Widenmann, Country Club Crest
Signed up for the band, mama wasn't mad
Took me to'minor's? Music to buy a drum pad (What else?)
And a pair of wooden sticks with the plastic tips
So I could practice my craft and one day get rich
(What you do?)
Kept it going, started rapping in the 7th grade (What you hear?)
Heard "Rapper's Delight": Sugarhill Gang
Growing up, life wasn't always fair
Moved to Magazine street, nothing like Bel-Air
A lot of shootouts and fights, hustling to survive
I pray every day, I thank God I'm still alive
A lot of my people ain't here no more
They either dead or in jail, on dog food or either blow

[Hook:]
I had a paper route
Free lunch, that was me, dawg
Getting teased made me hard
Living in the struggle
All I know is a hustle
And my mama had three jobs
I had a paper route
Free lunch, that was me, dawg
Getting teased made me hard
Living in the struggle
All I know is a hustle
And my mama had three jobs
Three jobs

I went from chopped Ramen noodles to garlic noodles at Crustacean
A little snotty nose ghetto child, see people grandma freebasing
(What else you see?)
Done seen it all, it ain't too much could trip me out
Only time when I cry is when the choir singing the missionary shout
Some of my loved ones in the bing, they locked up
They got a cell phone, they mannish, be on Twitter and Facebook
I send them the latest albums that slap
The music by mail, access secure pack-How about that?
Real ones be real ones, my nigga
If you a real one, my nigga, let's get these millions, my nigga
I'm with you if you off or on
Love keeps no record of wrong
To all my people in the struggle going through it
Listen to 40 lyrics, his music therapeutic
It's sick out here
Rifles big enough to kill a deer

Blowing medicinal is traditional around these parts
Only thing square about me is my candy Chevy box
Tremendous knock, or should I say slap, slumpin' 'em
Sound like The Thing and The Hulk in the trunk fading, back there chunkin' 'em
Intersection shootouts, bullets flying
I'm from an underserved community, bad credit and crime
So many babies dying, stuck in the middle, caught in the chaos
Everybody got guns, anybody will knock you off
When it rains it pours, lightning and thunder
I'm cool with the creator, I got his cell phone number
(When you talk to him?) I talk to him all the time
When the saints go marching in, I want to be in that line
Lack of communication leads to blood spilling
Mama always taught me never tease and laugh at special needs children
She worked at Napa State Hospital mental institution, Maggie's Hamburgers and Mr Jimmy's grocery store
Three jobs

Sharp On All 4 Corners: Corner 1 (2014)