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Lyrics
So you motherfuckers thought I was gonna change my style? - So what are you saying Todd? To all you bitches, hoes, and all that shit Here's another rap that I'm ready to spit It goes like this, my name is $hort I'm tearin shit up like never before Pimp slaps, makin snaps Cold cash money and Too $hort raps Oakland, California that's where I'm from The city where the boys say you don't want none But if you do, I'm gonna tell you this ( ) ain't really shit want to roll so hard, all of the time You and that bitch playin Too $hort rhymes If you aks me, what it's all about, I'll say it's about that money But if you aks me, could you have some, I'll say it doesn't concern me Ronald Reagan came up to me and said, "Do you have the answer To the United States economy and a cure for cancer?" I said, what are you doin in the White House if you're not sellin cocaine? Ask your wife, Nancy Reagan, I know she'll spit that game. Like one night, she came to my house, and gave me a blow job She licked my dick, up and down, like it was corn on the cob What is life? It is Too $hort I play the bitches like it's a sport Yea, I'll play the bitches just like y'all Like Dr. J played basketball You can call me Too, don't say it twice You'll get me real mad and I'll fuck your wife You see I'm not proper, I'm rarely polite Too $hort, Too $hort, don't say it tonight, beeatch It started on a bright morning in 1987 I was in my drop-to Caddy y'all Gettin sucked by a bitch named Helen Nasty bitches, around the world, I wrote this rhyme for you You might not like my rap, but I'm tellin you bitch it's true So much death in the Oakland streets Am I gonna live till next week? Will I get shot by a dope fiend, Tryin to get high, tryin to steal my ring I really can't say, cause I don't know why People out here droppin dead like flies I used to see a home boy givin five Now I say, "Man, you still alive?" Cold as hell, the town I'm from Won't last too long when you're fakin the funk I'm the master rapper, so unique Clap my hand when I want my freak You can't deny it, you know I'm right I turn any rapper out when I'm on the mic And I won't kick back, or relax Till he knows I'm the best at the MC rap Till he knows Too Short, set the track They got him caught up in my serious cap Motherfucker can't spit straight game on the mic Cause he's worse than a fag or a Frisco dike He's a sucker MC, I call him punk You try to spit that rap, you can scratch that junk You little punk-ass boy, wouldn't listen to me Think I'm fakin but I'm takin all you sucker MC's To the end of the world and push you over Good luck couldn't find you in a four leaf clover If I ever said a rap, tryin to cap on you, I wouldn't even sweat it cause you'll be through Lookin so far up, you might fall down Gettin clowned by the hound from east Oaktown And the look in your face when you're lickin that tooth Could make a grown man die, laughin at you Cause you're a, no rappin, no rhymin Played out fake ass simple simon I never understood one word you said But you're swearin up and down that you're killin em dead There's only one thing, I wanted to know Sucker motherfucker, where's the joke? I'm the player of players, just call me Pop My name is Too $hort, no I don't stop I just don't stop mackin, don't stop cappin Don't stop rappin now you see what happens Your mind is gone, your crew just cut Sucker MC I'll tell you what Your rhymes are weak, your rap the same And when it comes to game, you are lame Never even heard of Too $hort baby Hit Oakland in 1980 Singin mo raps than a rap could rhyme Tellin sucker MC's don't waste my time There's a girl I know her name is Betty Straight to the head just rock it steady She's so freaky she'll juice you up All the home boys just can't get enough She's a Ph.D., don't even stop In the back like that goin (top, top, top) I won't say white girl, won't say she's black She's the kind of girl that make your knees go crack Feel the beat, rock with me Let me tell you what I be I'm a MC rapper, a MC rapper A big bank roller and a cold, cold capper Hey baby, I got this rhyme It's not gonna stop till the end of time Like rock and roll I'll play that song To the beat all day and all night long So liten up, to what I'm sayin I'm a Oaktown mack, bitch I ain't playin To all the home boys doin time in the pen Gonna rock this beat for you once again If you can't get out and you're mad as hell Say beeatch, now make it sound for real I'ma tear shit up, if I get the chance I could give a fuck less if you're hole don't dance See I'm a big mack now, I'm so great I was born and raised in the Golden State Call me T.O.O., if you say $hort I'ma rap my ass off till you give me some more Big bank, now just make me rich Bitch bitch bitch bitch make me rich Check out my style, baby I don't quit I heard this freak say, "That's the shit, He took the cake, fucked the rake Too $hort baby damn sure ain't fake." But the sucker MC's are screamin loud Sayin Sir Too $hort, shut your mouth How can you talk about me, and call me weak When your father smokes coke and you mother's a freak So I keep on rappin, if nothin else Keep your jealous thoughts to yourself Bitch and Bitch, he's a MC right Ain't sayin nothin but he's holdin the mic Fuck with me, and boy you're doomed I send a trick with a hoe to the motel room Cause I'm the coldest MC on a microphone Like a .357 pointed at your dome I got cap for cap, you never heard So fresh again with cusswords Motherfuckin shit, fuckin with me Fuck a skank bitch and a sucker MC Cusswords, just let em know Motherfuckin shit, god damn ass hoe Cusswords, just don't quit Motherfuck you damn shithead bitch It's Too $hort, on the mic, and it don't stop and it don't stop, and it won't stop, beeatch Check out my style
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Song Info
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Genres
Hip-Hop
Moods
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Vocals
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