Rapper's Ball

E-Feezey

Too-scheezy

We off the heezy fo' sheezy baby

Off the heezy, I thought you theezy

**** ain't having no cheesy like us mane

They ain't havin' no raveez

Shit

Where K-Ceezy at man

Tell him to sing that shit

Lace dem fools or something

BIATCH

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

Claiming that your mail is tall

Tell me is it true or false?

Put my mac hand down

Ain't never been a Sim'

I was havin' B-R-E-A-D

Way before this rap game ****

Been time

Thought you theezy, fo sheezy

**** 'member

Earl, Brandt and Dannell, them boys from Vallejo

At every light its automatic

BURN RUBBER

See my folk is in the traffic, whatsupper

Follow that cab it got dope in it, uh

My **** Short got some hoes in it

I'm always hearing rappers big ballin' on they songs

I do that shit for real and you will never say I'm wrong

S-500 straight sittin' on twenties

TV in the dash, pimpin' hoes getting money

I'm Too $hort, babe, been down since the eighties

For the last eight years rode around in a Mercedes

Lexus, truck, drop-Vette Caddy

Bitches don't call me by my name

They call me daddy

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

Claiming that your mail is tall

Tell me is it true or false

KC, Shorty, E-40, Fonzarelli

I'll probably never have no money

Like Ross Perilli

But shit 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 motherfuckers can't be broke sometimes

Sometimes it's cool to floss

But don't buy a eight-five thousand dollar car

Before you buy a house

They said I couldn't rap

I just say bitch

I guess the bitch made me rich

And now you wanna call me hardcore

While I be stepping out the shower

On a marble floor

I pay the IRS taxes

Send FedEx and faxes

This industry is like fucking fat bitches

All work and no play

I do it everyday

Anyway 'cause I gotta stay paid 40

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

Claiming that your mail is tall

Tell me is it true or false

We throw parties on big-ass boats

**** 'bout they paper

Ultrafied all-inclusive trips

Montego, Jamaica

Front row seats at the Ultimate Fights

Shamrock and Severn

Long expensive flights, up there in the Heavens

Fat-ass royalty checks, fat-ass cribs

Smoking blunts and drinking brew on the balcony

Barbecuing ribs

The more scrilla, the merrier

I represent the Yay area

I walk from Foothill and Havenscourt

To sixty-seventh 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 bitch, and everybody read my lips

I got rich

Sucking up the game from the O

And even though a lotta rappers got the same kinda flow

I survived 'cause 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 mane

It's paystyle on mine

'Cause I love money money

Land rovers and Toyota

Lexuses six-hundred V-12

With the big ass motor Mercedeses

We don't be savin' hoes

Bitches be savin' us

Bitch disrespect me in my car

Bitch best to catch the bus

I keep a briefcase full of game

While y'all be hear hustlin'

Ain't no paperback pimpin'

Ayo we ain't struggling

Say that you got it all

Love the way you players ball

Everyday you're at the mall

Tell me

Say that you got it all

Love the way you players ball

Claiming that your mail is tall

Tell me is it true or false

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 a meal ticket

You gotta start somewhere

And I'm past that

For the right scratch

I'll be the last Mac

So stick yourself Pretty Tony

You're tryna make a hit

But your shit sounds phoney

No like AT&T but like E.T

You can't beat me

So would you please see

It you can keep my name out your mouth

'Cause you don't really know

What the game's all about

It's 'bout feeding the family

Not freakin' in the Benz

'Stead of renting pay for that roof on your head

And stop pimpin' in your own mind

Knowing you a trick

Put your hustle down player

Go and hit you a lick

Biatch

That writ, two scheezy

Ant Banks

Forty Fonzarelli

K-C

Damn, is that right?