[8B] Space, Age-in baby

[TS] Right right right right

[8B] One time

[TS] Beyotch!

[8B] Yeah, you know how they like it baby, nigga you can't retire!



Verse One: Too $hort, Eightball



From nineteen-eighty, through eighty-eight

I Don't Stop Rappin like my first tapes

When I was broke, I used to sell em instantly (instantly)

One look, you could tell it was the pimp in me (pimp in me)

In eighty-nine, I went on tour with Eazy-E (Eazy-E)

A bunch of fine bitches tryin to sleep with me

Every night, sold out, turnin young hoes

Tell her baby, no doubt, stick this dick in yo' mouth

I smoked a lot of weed, I said a lot of rhymes

Always fucked up in niggaz bitches all the time

Now I'm ridin on twenties wearin nice clothes

but ain't nuttin like pimpin hoes, and ridin Vogues

I live a good life, in my pursuit of happiness

I'm so glad, to get to the point of havin this

opportunity, for you and me to pass it on

Two years ago, I thought it'd be my last song



Me, Squeaky, Flex and J, on Saratoga Street

Smokin white boys, bumpin dopefiend beats

Eighty-eight, my pockets wasn't straight, but I was makin it

Niggaz like Lil' Tim was out there ballin sellin cakes n shit

I was right there, on the Mob Circle, writin raps

All about my snaps, tryin to put Ball and G on the map

Nowadays I own my shit and bone bad bitches

Kickin it with rich niggaz in rollers, and candy sixes

Deliverin hot shit like Pizza Hut for them hardcore thugs

Niggaz who pimp bitches and hit the highway with them drugs

Feel my flow, mix it in witcha chronic main

$hort Dawg, I don't know why you tryin to leave this game

State to state, plenty hoes and plenty money to make

Writing raps, makin more