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

Wanna 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, wheres 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