It Don't Stop

Funky Fresh on the motherfuckin' microphone, bitch
 And it don't stop to the beat, baby
 Oakland, California is in the house, bitch
 I tell you, nobody does it better than Too $hort
 I got so many raps, I know you can't have more
 'Cause I grew up on the mic, I spent my whole life
 Writin' raps, late at night
 And I never would make no fake LP's
 Sucker MC's don't make no G's
 They make weak, weak raps and need to quit
 22 songs and only three on hit
 Frontin' on me like you want some
 Better sell a million records, go platinum
 'Cause I wouldn't waste my time on a one-rap rapper
 You wanna get with me, you gotta climb that ladder
 But you ain't nothin' but a joke
 Rappers make money, tell me why are you broke?
 We get paid like a motherfucker and we get
 A brand-new house full of brand-new shit
 A brand-new car in my brand-new driveway
 I always keep the top down on the highway
 Too $hort, baby, known everywhere
 Had a life-long dream to be a player
 Way too cold at a younger age
 It was every day, just make that pay
 12 years later, you're still in the game
 And you never talk down on a player's name
 'Cause I'm Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too, Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too, Too $hort, Too $hort
 You see, I'm fresh like always with funky beats
 I say what's up to the brothers on 10th Street
 It's goin' down in the Oakland town
 Home of the infamous Too $hort sound
 So keep your jealous-ass thoughts in your diary
 And if you're lookin' for a leader, you can hire me
 And if your so-called boss don't pay
 The only thing you need to say
 Is "I quit, I'm through with you"
 Pack up your raps and join the Dangerous Crew
 We got more beats than the average Joe
 And a 24-track studio
 So forget what you heard and we'll see it's on
 Oakland, California, can't leave me alone
 'Cause I'm the most rappin', most rhymin'
 Sold my drop-top, but I'm still high-sidin'
 I'm Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too, Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too, Too $hort, Too $hort
 Now that I've established my career
 I wanna help some other brothers out here
 Hook 'em up and let 'em make some dough
 Flip Benzes and turn out shows
 'Cause Oakland got talent, fool
 MC's in elementary school
 Not to mention musicians and singers
 And Shorty B with his magical fingers
 We get funky like skunk weed
 Light it up, hit it and get keed
 This dope fiend beat will get you high
 If it don't go gold too soon, I'll cry
 If the bass ain't deep, somethin's wrong
 It must not be a real Too $hort song
 'Cause the first thing I do when I make my tape
 Is drop a few kicks from my 808
 And when my tapes hit the store, they sell so quick
 You can tell by my big fat royalty check
 It's just a dangerous thing when I'm on the mic
 And the local police don't even like
 The way we hit your town, it's so funny
 It's all about makin' big money
 So before I go, you should remember this
 Motherfuck you, damn shithead bitch
 'Cause I'm Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too, Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too, Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too, Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too $hort, Too $hort
 Too, Too $hort, Too $hort