Stack It To The Ceiling Lyrics - E-40

Ever since I woke up this morning, I've been on 

Twist the cap up off my weed jar, and smoked a cone 

Took a shower and got gone in the wind, like Steve Wynn 

I'm from the streets of California where we be hustlin and grittin' 

Gettin' that women, mobbin' and mackin', droppin' and stackin' 

Wheelin' and dealin' and makin' a killin' trying to hit a million 

Perkin' and illin' and drinkin' and chillin' in front of the apartment building 

Packin' and totin' and toast the lean oh what a feelin' 

He's a fraudulent, I'm immaculate 

He a simp, he a sap, he irrelevant 

I'm a boss, I'm a factor, I'm a hundred percent 

I'm a hustler like Larry Flynt 

Getting money's my habit, I stay in the traffic 

Papered up like a tablet, my bankroll is massive 

If I walked in a loser, mayne I'm gonna walk out a winner 

I ball like a hooper man, papered up like a printer 

I ain't wrapped too tight, I'm touched, I'm throwed 

Mental health, argue with my conscience cursin' out myself 

My psychologist got a psychologist, neurologist too 

I'm one of one, I'm not like you 

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Act like you know 

Dippin' and bobbin' and weavin' 

In and out of traffic, from the morning to the evening 

Trying to get my paper right, my nigga 

Stack it to the ceiling 

Act like you know 

Dippin' and bobbin' and weavin' 

In and out of traffic, from the morning to the evening 

Trying to get my paper right, my nigga 

Stack it to the ceiling 

Photos 

Drinking and blowing on some good bud 

Smokin' on a strain you never heard of 

Exclusive shit, I got it from my plugs 

You drop my weed on my rug 

That's twenty pushups, that's a party foul 

You can do 'em later or do 'em now 

I don't allow (who?) 

Aliens around me, that's a no-no 

They'll try to sneak me and turn my brains into adobo 

Rarely see me solo, if you do I'm not 

Best believe E-40 with his .45 Glock 

I'm ADHD, need something to calm my nerves 

You libel to find me at my kid's teacher's meeting smellin' like herb 

I stay plastered, but I'm all about my paper 

Liquor aroma, that's me in the elevator 

More whips than Auto Trader, that's what I got 

Driveway, looks like a car lot 

My bite is stronger than my bark 

Thought you thought, heart 

Bitch you full of shit like a dog park 

Mark ass poodle, square as a cubicle 

Weirdo, unusual 

Why do suckas, be all in a real one's business? 

While these sideline niggas be always trying to count a hustler's chizznips 

Flappin' their lizznips like some bitches, man they saps 

Dudes be running their mouth like that, we call 'em quack-quacks 

That's how a bitch gets smack-smacked 

Shot in the naps, clapped 

Head put on flap, Fix-a-Flat can't even bring 'em back (bitch) 

Act like you know 

Dippin' and bobbin and weavin' 

In and out of traffic, from the morning to the evening 

Trying to get my paper right, my nigga 

Stack it to the ceiling 

Act like you know 

Dippin' and bobbin and weavin' 

In and out of traffic, from the morning to the evening 

Trying to get my paper right, my nigga 

Stack it to the ceiling 

...to the ceiling