Too $hort (too Short) - It Don't Stop lyrics

Funky fresh on the muthaf**in microphone b**h And it don't stop To the beat, baby Oakland, california is in the house b**h [ 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 s**er 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 muthaf**a, and we get A brand-new house full of brand-new sh** 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-a** 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 ba** 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 Muthaf** you, damn sh**head b**h Cause I'm (too $hort, too $hort)