Randy Austin - Cusswords lyrics

So you motherf**ers thought I was gonna change my style? - So what are you saying Todd? To all you b**hes, hoes, and all that sh** Here's another rap that I'm ready to spit It goes like this, my name is $hort I'm tearing sh** up like never before Pimp slaps, making 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 Trues and Vogues ain't really sh** Wanna roll so hard, all of the time You and that b**h playing Too $hort rhymes If you ask me, what it's all about, I'll say it's about that money But if you ask 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 U.S. economy and a cure for cancer?" I said, "What are you doing in the White House if you're not selling c**aine? 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? Life is Too $hort I play young b**hes like it's a sport Yea, I play the b**hes 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 f** 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-top Caddy y'all Getting s**ed by a b**h named Helen Nasty b**hes, around the world, I wrote this rhyme for you You might not like my rap, but I'm telling you b**h it's true So much d**h in the Oakland streets Am I gonna live till next week? Will I get shot by a dope fiend Trying to get high, trying to steal my ring? I really can't say, cause I don't know why People out here dropping dead like flies I used to see a home boy, give him five Now I say, "Man, you still alive?" Cold as hell, this town I'm from Won't last too long when you're faking 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 trap That got him caught up in my serious cap Motherf**er can't spit straight game on the mic Cause he's worse than a f*g or a Frisco dyke He's a s**er MC, I call him punk Trying to spit that rap, you can scratch that junk You little punk-a** boy, wouldn't listen to me Think I'm faking but I'm taking all you s**er 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, trying to cap on you I wouldn't even sweat it cause you'll be through Looking so far up, you might fall down Getting clowned by the hound from east Oaktown And the look in your face when you're looking at Too Could make a grown man die, laughin at you Cause you're a, no rappin, no rhymin Played out fake a** simple simon I never understood one word you said But you're swearing up and down that you're k**ing me dead There's only one thing, I wanted to know s**er motherf**er, where's 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 s**er 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 Singing more raps than a rap could rhyme Telling s**er 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 going (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 listen up, to what I'm saying I'm a Oaktown mack, b**h I ain't playing To all the home boys doing 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'mma tear sh** up, if I get the chance I could give a f** 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'mma rap my a** off till you give me some more Big bank, now just make me rich b**h b**h b**h b**h make me rich Check out my style, baby I don't quit I heard this freak say, "That's the sh** He took the cake, f**ed the rake Too $hort baby damn sure ain't fake." But the s**er MC's are screaming loud Saying 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 nothing else Keep your jealous a** thoughts to yourself [b**h] Picture this, he's a MC right [b**h] Ain't saying nothing but he's holding the mic [b**h] f** with me, and boy you're doomed I send a trick with a ho 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 Motherf**ing sh**, f**ing with me f** a skank b**h and a s**er MC All you ba*tards got the claps And f** you punk cause you still can't rap Cusswords, just let em roll Motherf**ing sh**, God damn a**hole Cusswords, just don't quit Motherf** you damn sh**head b**h 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