Mack 10 - Rapper's Ball lyrics

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Mack 10 - Rapper's Ball lyrics

[Intro: Too $hort & E-40] Where them naked hoes at? E-Feezy! Too $heezy! We off the heezy fa sheezy baby Off the heezy I thought you theezy n***as ain't havin' no cheezy like us mayne They ain't havin no raveez! Ya know? sh** Ha ha, know what I'm sayin'? Where K-Ceezy at man? Tell him sing that sh** Lace them fools or something Biotch! [Chorus: K-Ci] Say that you got it all Love the way you players ball Everyday you're at the mall Tell me is it true or false Say that you got it all Love the way you players ball Claimin' that your mail is tall Tell me is it true or false [Verse 1: E-40 & Too $hort] I put my mack hand down ain't never been a Sim' I was havin' B-R-E-A-D way before this rap game n***a, been tim' Thought you theezy, for sheezy, n***as 'member Earl, Brandt and Dannell, them boys from Vallejo At every light it's automatic, burn rubber! See my folkers in the traffic, wa**upper? Follow that cab it got dope in it, uhh My n***a $hort got some hoes in it I'm always hearin' rappers big ballin' on they songs I do that sh** for real and you will never say I'm wrong S-500 straight sittin on twenties TV in the dash pimpin' hoes gettin money I'm Too $hort baby been down since the eighties For the last eight years rode around in a Mercedes Lexus, trucks, drop-Vette, Caddy b**hes don't call me by my name they call me daddy [Chorus] [Verse 2: E-40 & Too $hort] K-Ci, $hort and Forty Fonzarelli I'll probably never have long money like Ross Perelli But sh**, we just want a help- Don't want the whole plate Don't put the two on the ten, don't ever perpetrate Like a lot of these fools I see on TV With the Armani, Chanel versus Versace Why motherf**ers can't be broke sometimes? Sometimes it's cool to floss But don't buy an eighty-five thousand dollar car Before you buy a house They always said I couldn't rap, I just say b**h I guess the b**h, made me rich And now you wanna call me hardcore While I be steppin out the shower on a marble floor I pay the IRS taxes, send FedEx and faxes This industry is like f**in fat b**hes All work and no play, I do it everyday Anyway cuz I gotta stay paid, Forty [Chorus] [Verse 3: E-40] We throw parties on big-a** boats, n***as 'bout they paper Ultrafied all-inclusive trips, Montego Jamaica Front row seats at the Ultimate Fights, Shamrock and Severn Long expensive fa-uh-flights, up there in the heavens Fat a** royalty checks, fat a** cribs Smokin' blunts and drinkin' brew on the balcony, barbecuin' ribs The more scrilla, the merrier I represent the Yay Area I walked from Foothill and Havenscourt to Sixty-Seven MacArthur To Freddie B house to make tapes with my partner Hit Arroyo Park, we had tapes for sale Got a paper bag full of that, can't you tell It's funky, everybody nod they head like this I said b**h, and everybody read my lips I got rich, s**in up the game from the O And even though a lot of rappers got the same kind of flow I survived cuz I got mo', game than them It came straight from the prostitutes, players, and pimps It was my destiny, I came the same every time So don't question me, I transferred the game into rhymes I'm not a freestyler, don't rap for free mayne It's paystyle on mine, cuz I love money mayne Landrovers and Toyota, Lexuses Six-hundred V-twelve with them big a** motor Mercedeses We don't be savin' hoes, b**hes be savin' us b**h disrespect me in my car, b**h best to catch the bus I keep a briefcase full of game, while y'all be ear-hustlin' Ain't no paperback pimpin' n***a, we ain't strugglin' [Chorus] [Verse 4: Too $hort] I'm Shorty the Pimp, I come funky Again and again, they say when will it end? Maybe never, cause I can still spit it But I ain't rappin' for cheese, I want meal tickets Gotta start somewhere, and I'm past that For the right scratch, I'll be the last mack So stick yaself Pretty Tony You tryin' to make a hit, but your sh** sounds phony Not like AT&T but like ET You can't be me, so would you please see If you can keep my name out your mouth Cause you don't really know what the game's all about It's 'bout feedin' the family, not freakin' in the Benz Instead of rentin', pay for that roof on your head And stop pimpin' in your own mind knowin' you a trick Put your hustle down playa go an hit you a lick b**h! [Outro: E-40 & Too $hort] That's ritt Too $heezy, Ant Banks, Forty Fonzarelli, K-Ci Damn is that right? That's right