Shorty The Pimp-explicit

Ain't no love in oakland, bitch
Niggas always talkin bout 'i love you'
But ain't no love, bitch

[ verse 1 ]
Now it's a shame, i can't be saved by john the pope
I gotta be a pimp or sellin dope
Cause in this town, it's goin on
And brothers doin that can't live too long
So what's my option, do it or not
Break a hoe, sell a ki, just don't get caught
Cause if i do, i'm goin to jail
On a one-way ticket to a prison cell
So why commit the crime? don't ask me
Went to school everyday, and i still can't read
I count money like a champ, now ask me
Why everyday does the task force jack me
The story's been told one million times
About a boy growin up to a life of crime
I heard it before, you heard it too
But now, homeboy, it's just me and you
You see, people try to call us filthy trash
Even though we live better and make mo' cash
Than they do, i'm not a no-good thug
Standin on the corner sellin drugs
And just remember, this ain't multiple choice
Without a college degree you only got your voice
You gotta talk for yours, or get nothin at all
This ain't the nba, i ain't havin a ball
Every day is a trip, but i ain't trippin
Watch my back and don't start slippin
Money won't talk, but it looks right back
Everytime i dip into my stack
I'm buyin cars, jewelries, and mobile phones
Things i couldn't get with a high school diploma
It's alright, cause i just help myself
You should know, cause i can't do nothin else
And you better watch out for the day
When you lock me up and throw that key away
Cause i'll be back on parole
Ain't changed nothing, cause i'm ready to roll
I go to school now, but just to front
Still servin dopefiends what they want
Count 5 to 10, 10 to 20
And i just keep on makin money
I hope you don't think my story's amazin
I tell it to a kid in the ghetto, it won't faze him
So many blackmen die for drugs
I think back on the way life was
Before rock cocaine started runnin thangs
And drive-by shootings was a normal thang
Before brothers bought benzes, used to drive mustangs
12 years later, and i'm still in the game
All my life all i wanted was a few hoes
If i was pimpin or slingin at the liquor sto'
Ain't nothin but street life, fuck that school
All the squares up there ain't even cool
Plus my partners at the house sell coke all day
Hit the mall like players, spendin fat-ass bank
Junior high wasn't shit but a place to fight
Muthafuckas wasn't learnin how to read and write
I'm just walkin down the street all alone
High as hell, my mind is gone
I'm thinkin bout some brand-new shit and i'm broke
I know i be a fiend if i smoke that coke
But if i go back to school and get educated
Be a old-ass man before i graduated
So what should i do, i can't even cope
I guess i'll get a sack and start slingin dope
I went to my homie, said, "give me the sack"
He disappeared quick, and he came right back
He said, "you owe me a g, i give you a week
You fuck up my money, don't cop no plead
Cause in the oak ain't no love, $hort"
I knew right then i couldn't sell that coke
When i was young, it was hard to tell
If i grow up and be rich as hell
See, i was cool i knew all the shit
Big bank on my finger tips
But i never had a big bank, not back then
I kicked back and watched all my friends
Make big money, right in my face
And if you ever crossed them, they be on your case
You go under, six feet underground
You gets no love from the oaktown

[ verse 2 ]
I drive my top everyday like a movie star
Drive around all night in old towed up cars
And if you stop me, ain't no tellin what you find in my trunk
Gotta live like this, cause i ain't no punk
So break down the dank and roll up that shit
Light the muthafucka, take a fat-ass hit
My fingers all sticky from the residue
Don't fuck with me, i won't fuck with you
Cause life is only give and take
In the town where the strong control the fake
The wild wild west, that's the place
Suckers take a bite, and don't even taste
The california lifestyle that i live
Mack these hoes every chance i get
Like a drop sl, three times black
I'm a pimp, a player and i been known to mack
I'm a muthafucka, i broke your heart
She gave it all to me, and i tore it apart
Talked about love right to the end
But i broke your heart and, bitch, i do it again
So young and tender, also fine
Tryin to get short dog all the time
I take what i want, you can keep the rest
You gets no love from east oakland, bitch
That's the place i call home
Where the oakland city players roam
Game don't stop, listen to me
Everybody fuckin with the o.p.d.
Slingin cocaine, knockin it off
Killed some nigga, and he never got caught
High-speed chases everyday
Can't make no money no other way
A bitch yelled "raid!", that ain't true
Cause you laid down, and she fucked you
Two days ago i didn't know she existed
But now baby is just one of my bitches
I don't care what you say
Cause i catch bitches and straight get pay
You don't care what i'm sayin
Punk-ass square ain't got no game
Hoes love me, cause i'm a player
They think maybe i just might fuck em later
I keep mackin though, i don't work for free
To be a true hoe you gotta pay me
I spend endless days and endless nights
Plottin this shit to keep my money right
I build stages in my mind, and it's all an act
All i'm tryin to do is keep my pockets fat
With this pimp game, and these funky beats
Now here's a little story from the oakland streets
You see, tania had a boyfriend, his name was jack
Always had the bitches on their backs
Jack told tania, "i love you so"
But jack's a mack, he's got several hoes
One day she beeped him to say what's up
He didn't call back, cause she was only out to fuck
She beeped mike, cause she got mad
She knew about the bitches her boyfriend had
Mike called back, and he was on his way
He just got the pussy yesterday
You see, mike ain't trippin on his girlfriend
Fine little bitch, i think her name is lynn
Mike paid the bills always in cash
And if she ever got raw, he just beat that ass
It goes on y'all, so don't even trip
You gets no love from east oakland, bitch
Got sprung, even though it's not legal
A young black man livin like rich people
I got this game from a hard-ass place
It's on the map, right there in your face
I see my people, all filled with joy
Next day they're killin homeboys
Can't say shit if you sho' can't shoot
Cause muthafuckas will smoke them boots
You gets no love from oakland, bitch
You better try to make me rich

Step daddy, i know what you want
I come through like the first of the month
Ain't nothing but a holiday
When i fuck my way
I'm her worst nightmare, her wettest dream
We always do that freaky thing
And when i'm coming to her house
I know just what she's all about
Don't waste no time, get in it
Keep on humping til my head starts spinning
Whoop that ass like a world champ
Break the chairs and knock down the lamp
In my birthday suit, dripping wet
No i ain't tripping how freaky it get
Feeling that sweat on my eyebrow
Nothing can't stop me but nature now
Fucking your bitch like them pros do
Something you can't get close to
Born to mack in my drop-top caddy

Just call me "step daddy" (repeat 3x)

How many mothers in the house tonight, ladies?
How many daddies take care of them babies?
They got to learn to take care of their own
Getting girls pregnant and leaving 'em alone
Fine little bitches, way too young
Met short dog and then gave him some
So why you keep talking about the pg&e?
When all she ever wanted was a man like me
To come through, and do that thang
Step daddy in the house, and i got game
So lock your back doors, check your hoes
Suck on the pussy and lick them toes
Step daddy coming through like a porno flick
Freak the bitch, now she loves my dick
She let me bust big nuts all in her mouth
And s.d. turned the bitch out

Just call me "step daddy" (repeat 4x)

Gold-digging bitches in the city of dope
Got it going on like a daytime soap
She's so freaky, she'll make you shout
One on the way and got two at the house
Three different daddies, and all is well
As long as them brothers keep making mail
And it's cool, when i come through
Play step daddy for a minute or two
And then fuck her, that's how it's done
It's not my daughter and it's not my son
So what if your kids start tearing shit up
I really don't give a fuck
I never get mad about the shit they break
When i'm around, we eat steak
I let the motherfuckers act bad
Buy 'em toys when they're crying and sad
Could you be 'em? your baby's momma
Turns me on in her freaky pajamas
I come through and make the whole house happy

Just call me "step daddy" (repeat 3x)

Get freaky, and do it wild
On the floor, doggy style
I get rugburns, on my knees
While your bitch be crying "please
Don't stop" so i don't
I fuck her like i know you won't
Pull out my dick and make her lose hope
Stick it back in and make her take some notes
If that's your bitch, homeboy you'd better keep her
Cause she won't stay off my beeper
You can't fuck her and i appreciate it
Even though i know you hate it
I keep getting that good shit
S.d. wanna fuck your bitch
Come through and make the hoe so happy

Just call me "step daddy" (repeat 2x)

Funky fresh on the muthafuckin microphone
Bitch

And it don't stop
To the beat, baby

Oakland, california is in the house
Bitch

[ verse 1 ]
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 3 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 muthafucka, 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 everyday, 'just make that pay'
12 years later, still in the game
And you never talk down on a player's name
Cause i'm (too $hort, too $hort)

[ verse 2 ]
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 mo' 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)

[ verse 3 ]
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 dopefiend 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
Muthafuck you, damn shithead bitch
Cause i'm (too $hort, too $hort)

It's on
Where they at, where they at, where they at

I sold tapes every day me and freddy b
Been famous since 1983
Give me ten dollars, and you straight get blessed
A rap all about you called the special request
Oakland, you know i go way back
To coug nuts, fal stangs, and cadillac's
When homeboys put vogues on any car
With 6 by 9's smoking burners
Everybody got addicted to my dopefiend beat
Whole town fucked around and started smoking d
Every rap i ever made was about this town
I made 7 whole albums with no james brown
And even though i love his music, i just can't stand
The way they used it all up and didn't pay the man
And after 2 platnum albums, you call me weak
Cause i don't sell records in the east
Now what's funky, i say pussy on an old hoe
I guess y'all fools don't know
Why some good rappers can't sell no tapes
It's not the company's fault, the shit sounds fake
You wanna be in the trunk, with the booming box
While the young bitches ride on your jock
You can't do it like this homey, so just pass it
And stop kissing them white folks asses
It's like you smoked a whole damn key
You rap so fast you keep leaving the beat
I'm from the old school, i love p-funk
But now rap music is all that they want
So when i'm in my car, i play clinton
And when i'm on the stage i start pimping
And when i hear your shit, i push eject
Then i throw it out the window with the rejects
And when the hard core rappers go soft
I like to watch when they ass fall off
Cause ain't nothing worth kicking like a sucka mc
And any other rappers ever talk about me
I don't stop rapping, that's all they can say
And how i dogg bitches, every day
But if you can't be a dogg, then you're weak
You be phony like a side show freak
Some rappers try to come off positive
Where i'm from that just ain't how it is
They say rap music is here to stay
But the sucka mc's don't think that way
It took 8 long years before i got my break
So i wonder why rapper's make fake ass tapes
You won't get paid like i did, so give up punk
And while your in the studio, i'm in the trunk
You got no choice, so don't flip that coin
This ain't the military, so you punks can't join
It ain't pop, it's called underground rap
From oakland california and the shit sounds phat
I'm spitting raps to my motherfucking homies
That's why they listen to the one and only
I used to be broke, but now we all used to be
Got no game for a bitch, all the game is for me
And these bitches, can't say shit to me
They could never could fuck with short baby
I'm not a tounge twisting rapper with a funny style
Don't dress hip hop and dance real wild
But i do sell records like a motherfucker
Even though you might i'm just another sucka
I find the beat and then never switch
Grab the microphone and then call you a bitch
You want rent money, i got pimp money
One thing's for sure, i won't give it to a hoe
I throw a bitch in the god damn trunk
And start slamming that oakland funk
Short dogg's in the house, once again
Trying to fade the platnum, with shorty the pimp
And when i do, i'm going straight to the bank
Withdraw some money and buy some dank
You can't relate to my motherfucking homies
That's why they listen to the one and only
I grew up on the funk called p
But these motherfuckers growing up on me
And if i ego trip, and my head is fucked
I take my ass back, to where i grew up
And get real boy, it's never too late
Before i do like you and make a weak ass tape
I'm in the trunk...

In the trunk, in, in the trunk
In the trunk, in, in the trunk
In the trunk beating down the block

In the trunk, in, in the trunk
In the trunk, in, in the trunk
In the trunk beating down the block

You think oakland california is a city of punks
It only takes a second, to pop the trunk
And just like that you know it's real
You're in the right damn town to get killed
It's all about the game, and nothin else
You come out here, you better watch yourself
Cause you can wear what you want, even blue or red
But cross the wrong brothers, and end up dead
You catch a body full of bullets, and get blasted
Tryin to be a gangsta but you just ain't lastin
This little town is gettin wild as hell
Check the penetentiaries and all the jails
If they could lock us all up that would be just fine
Got my partners from oakland doin serious time
You can't argue with the truth it's hard to be black
But it's a mindgame, and you gotta deal with that
I wake up everyday and i just can't wait
To make mo money, cause back in the days
When i rapped, i did the same damn thing i do now
Grab the microphone, and show you how
But i was broke, the only thing i had was game
I started makin money and knew things would change
Bought a benz, thought it might earn respect
But the opd, found it hard to accept
I got jacked by the task and jacked by the vice
Face down on the ground keep my hands in sight
Put the handcuffs on backseat i'm in it
Illegal search for about thirty minutes
Askin me, where's the dope
Where's my gun, but i don't know
I said i'm rappin, they laugh like i told a joke
And to this day they think i'm sellin coke

I want to be free! (and that's the truth) ohhh yeahhh
I want to be free! ohhh yeahhh

I be in oakland california every day of my life
Bass so hard you think i'm smokin a pipe
And if i don't smoke it, i gots to grind
Searched all my stuff, and all you find
Is a pocket full of money count seven g's
Now you wanna think i'm sellin keys
Cause i'm a black man, but i run my own business
So why the police wanna send me to prison
They see a brother makin major cash
They knock a patch out his black ass
And that's the truth, you can't argue you at all
Tryin to give you ten years for a phone call
Ain't even trippin on the dank smoke
Cause all they wanna find, is guns and coke
In court all the time tryin to fight it
We get rich, we get indeibted
So what's the problem officer this time?
Is havin big money bein black a crime?
Or did you take me to jail, to teach me a lesson
Charge me with somethin, or just ask questions
About the brothers i hang around
What's really goin on in the oakland town
Tell me who went broke, and who got rich
But too $hort baby just ain't no snitch
You say you're just doin your job
But you're gettin on my nerves, just like bob
Everytime i hit a corner, i see you
Always tellin brothers what to do
You lock me up cause i don't know how to act
But i'm down for mine so i be talkin back
And when i do, you treat me bad as hell
I'm sick of spendin nights in jail

I want to be free! (and that's the truth) ohhh yeahhh
I want to be free! ohhh yeahhh

Got out of jail about fo'-fifteen
Walkin down the street like a broke dopefiend
Had a pocket full of money tryin to play the role
Benz got towed and i was hella cold
But i ain't trippin, i'm gettin used to it now
Handcuffed your boy took me straight downtown
For three warrants, had to catch me sooner or later
Cause the five-oh's always tryin to jack a playa
For no reason, wasn't doin nothin wrong
You think i'm lyin, singin that same ol song
Well i'm a black man, ridin in a benz
How in the hell did i make these ends? here we go
I pull over to the right
Stop the engine keep my hands in sight
I start cursin, cause it don't make sense
Why would i run and try to jump a fence
If i was plannin, a smooth getaway
I never woulda stopped in the first place
You'd be high speed chasin me but this time you ain't
Cause all i got on me is a big fat bank
And i hope i don't get robbed by you know who
Make me donate some g's to the boys in blue
And if i sue, i won't get nothin back
But i ain't mad... i'm just black...

I want to be free! ohhh yeahhh
I want to be free! ohhh yeahhh
I want to be free! ohhh yeahhh
I want to be free! ohhh yeahhh