CussWords - Too Short

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 tearing shit up like never before

Pimp slaps, making 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

Trues and Vogues ain’t really shit

Wanna roll so hard, all of the time

You and that bitch playing Too $hort rhymes

If you ask me what it’s all about, I’ll say it’s about that money

But if you ask 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 U.S. economy and a cure for cancer?»

I said, «What are you doing in the White House if you’re not selling 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?

Life is Too $hort

I play young bitches like it’s a sport

Yeah, I 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, biatch

It started on a bright morning in 1987

I was in my drop-top Caddy y’all

Getting 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 telling 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

Trying to get high, trying to steal my ring?

I really can’t say, 'cause I don’t know why

People out here dropping dead like flies

I used to see a home boy, give him five

Now I say, «Man, you still alive?»

Cold as hell, this town I’m from

Won’t last too long when you’re faking 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 trap

That 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 dyke

He’s a sucker MC, I call him punk

Trying to spit that rap, you can scratch that junk

You little punk-ass boy, wouldn’t listen to me

Think I’m faking but I’m taking 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 trying to cap on you

I wouldn’t even sweat it 'cause you’ll be through

Looking so far up, you might fall down

Getting clowned by the hound from east Oaktown

And the look in your face when you’re looking at Too

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 swearing up and down that you’re killing me 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

Singing more raps than a rap could rhyme

Telling 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 going chop chop chop

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 listen up, to what I’m saying

I’m a Oaktown mack, bitch I ain’t playing

To all the home boys doing 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’mma tear shit up if I get the chance

I could give a fuck less if your ho 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’mma 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 screaming loud

Saying Sir Too $hort, shut your mouth

How can you talk about me, and call me weak

When your father smokes coke and your mother’s a freak

So I keep on rappin' if nothing else

Keep your jealous ass thoughts to yourself

Picture this, he’s a MC right

Ain’t saying nothing but he’s holding the mic

Fuck with me, and boy you’re doomed

I’ll send a trick with a ho 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

Motherfucking shit, fucking with me

Fuck a skank bitch and a sucker MC

All you bastards got the claps

And fuck you punk 'cause you still can’t rap

Cusswords, just let em roll

Motherfucking shit, God damn asshole

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