Lyrics Buy You Some - Too $hort
Whoo!
Ah
ah,
ayahh,
ahh
ahh
ahh
And
you
don't
stop,
ahh
ahh,
word
is
bond,
word
is
bond
Nowducing
the
sound
from
the
ghetto
E
Double
and
Too
$hort,
what
the
fuck
you
thought?
I
come
with
the
ruckus,
It's
My
Thing
when
I
swing
I'm
Born
to
Mack,
always
strapped,
with
the
black
gat
Who
out
there
I
swear
boy
wanna
get
touched
Roll
up,
and
catch
a
slug
to
the
chest,
so
DUCK
I
talk
the
talk,
walk
the
walk,
now
nigga
Five
hundred
S
drivin
with
hand
on
trigger
Crazy
Lestat,
check
my
track
record
Everything
I
touch
is
gold
since
eighteen
years
old
So
what
that
mean?
I
roll
the
blunt
And
puff
the
indo
smoke
in
it,
I
trip
in
a
minute
Crazy
holy
doctor
holdin
me
cuz
I
be
rockin
B
Sewin
up
like
Monopoly,
nobody's
stoppin
me
Dig
it,
Funkdafied
like
Brat,
how's
that?
I
stick
and
move
on
tracks
while
I
smoke
a
twenty
sack
Who
said
the
E
can't
rock?
That's
bullshit
Suck
my
dick
and
get
a
big
fat
lick
of
my
balls
You
wanna
brawl?
Punk
I
thought
not
You
might
get
beat
down
and
stomped
like
Sasquatch
Your
girl,
like
Keith
Sweat,
I
wanna
fuck
her
Psych,
I
already
stuck
her
I
got
rhymes
to
make
your
whole
head
swell
up
Here's
an
icepack
homeboy
shut
the
hell
up
I
rock
the
mic
with
Too
$hort,
y'all
niggaz
know
what's
happenin
Everything
he
touch
goes
platinum
Eyeeaaaah!
I
made
a
half
a
million
in
a
week
And
every
nigga
on
the
street
got
a
tape
playin
me
You
can't
believe
it?
Erick
Sermon,
rollin
with
$hort
Rolled
from
California
all
the
way
to
New
York
In
big
Benzes,
G-50
up
Now
we
trying
to
squash
all
that
East/West
stuff
We
spent
years
in
the
studio
makin
funky
tracks
Signed
a
bunch
of
niggaz
with
some
tight
ass
raps
It's
like
Father
Dom,
it's
like
Keith
Murray
Makin
millionaires
but
it
ain't
no
hurry
Cuz
we
all
in
it
for
the
long
run
I
won't
leave
the
studio
until
a
song's
done
And
ain't
nuthin
really
hard
about
gettin
my
cash
A
big
phat
house
with
a
million
stash
You
other
niggaz
got
this
rap
game
distorted
Givin
DATs
to
the
label,
straight
gettin
shorted
Claim
you're
gettin
paid,
but
I
can't
tell
You
keep
rappin
in
my
ear
got
me
mad
as
hell
You
talk
a
good
game
but
I
don't
believe
in
you
Be
smokin
lotta
blunts
but
I
got
more
weed
than
you
I
guess
I
see
you
on
the
charts
in
the
meanwhile
Another
face
in
the
crowd
plus
some
freestyle
Wishin
you
could
be
in
the
light
Promoters
pay
me
ten
G's
just
to
breathe
on
the
mic
Bitch!
$hort
Dawg
puttin
it
down
with
the
E
Double
Shhhhh!
You
remind
me
of
my
phat
gold
chain
Some
of
y'all
are
just
small
change
Be
a
boss
with
true
true
game
Yeah
yeah
Dig
this
y'all,
my
Music
is
Dangerous
Atomic
Dog,
coming
through
the
smog
with
$hort
Dawg
Ahhh!
Quick
with
the
trig
Jack
be
nimble
I
shoot
like
G
Mob
goes
liftin
through
my
window
Chik
chik
pow!
How
you
like
me
now?
The
man
in
the
mirror
it
don't
get
no
clearer
$hort
Dawg,
the
E
Double,
and
Breed
we
roll
thick
Like
girls
in
C.A.U.
with
the
good
power-U
Owww!
Money
is
the
key
to
fame
So
I
can
live
it
up
with
the
girls
on
Soul
Train
The
impact,
major
league
dough
like
Dave
Justice
Yo
Breed,
$hort
Dawg,
show
em
how
we
bust
this
Like
some
true
pioneers,
don't
forget
it
Put
the
money
on
the
table,
let's
split
it
We
got
enough
G's
here
to
make
us
both
happy
Tell
them
fans
we
ain't
runnin
no
coke
factory
It's
$hort
Dawg
the
real
pimp
of
the
century
Girls
get
wet
every
time
somebody
mention
me
I
was
known
for
my
mackin
back
in
eighty-four
I
want
it
all,
that's
what
I
keep
stackin
for
Have
things
that
a
rapper
never
dreamed
of
havin
And
I
can
tell
them
how
to
get
it
just
keep
rappin
Life's
a
battle,
headed
for
the
new
sun
So
many
ways
to
get
paid,
you
got
ta
choose
one
Now
some
of
the
ways
to
get
paid
out
is
runnin
your
mouth
That
street
life
will
keep
me
tight,
I'm
talkin
bout
Gettin
green,
dolla
dolla
bills
y'all
That's
on
the
real,
somethin
you
can
feel
y'all
Many
claim
to
have
game
but
you
can
get
that
on
sale
But
ain't
nuthin
they
sellin
to
you
but
Arbor
and
Gail
I
mean
Sprinkle
Me
homey
cuz
I'm
bout
dollars
and
cents
And
if
you
ain't
haulin
dollars
well
you
ain't
holler
In
FlintI'd
rather
dip
dip
dive,
so-socialize
Get
loot
from
the
Great
Lakes,
West
to
Eastside
You
tramp,
trick,
HACH
I
spit
Undergrade
if
you
ain't
gettin
paid
like
this
The
hours
of
the
ATL
paves
my
name
Spittin
Mr.
Macker
izzer
are
you
still
in
the
game
See
I
gets
paid
by
the
movement
of
the
cut
I've
been
summoned
by
the
cancer,
to
testify
and
bless
It's
that,
big
mack,
like
scripture
is
a
phat
Kodeje?
So
hide
your
hoe
from
me
Southern
am-bassador,
knockin
at
your
door
Leadin
a
click
that's
true,
checkin
knowin
all
fifty-two
See,
all
you
tricks,
best
behave
It's
that
Southern
nigga
mack
from
the
city
of
the
Brave
I
got
the
platinum
caul,
yes
yes
y'all
So
plant
me
with
the
green
and
them
hoes
and
we
can
big
ball
Yeah,
now
we
rollin
four
deep
Double
dosin,
relaxin,
and
maxin
to
$hort
and
these
beats
E
Double,
$hort
Dawg,
Kool
Ace
In
the
place,
and
be
all
but
bring
you
straight
horror
Representin
money
Buy
you
some
nigga
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