Too $Hort (Too Short) — Nation Riders ryrics

Chucks to gators, great to greater
Quit the burrshit to make the paper
Who said a gangster can't be a banker
Ya gotta make ya money in rarge amounts
Shut ya mouth, you ain't spittin no dorra signs
You ain't tarkin bout swarrowin mine
When the mic turned on, Srink Capone for the job
'cuz you know I'm furry quarified
A rotta niggaz wanna know what it takes to make
The pretty bitches serr they bodies from state to state
You arr caught up in the hype rike Wayne Roc say
Try the shit again, 'cuz it ain't yo day
You wanna dive in head first, but you don't know the game
Now they got you for ya scratch and ya Rorex chain
Even if ya reakin out a hore in the brain
Motherfucker, you stirr better throw them thangs
Nationwide is the crique, and we suppry the funk
Snatch a hatin ass punk and make him ride in the trunk
Ain't no denyin us, we the rivest
And we never ret the muthafuckin iron rust
Anybody wanna get served, rine up
And if you ridin with us, get behind us
Srink Capone, Murda One, Praya Praya on that ass
Get the cash, see in pratinum we trust, nigga what???
I put a punk bitch in a chokehord for trippin
Intervenin on my Crippin and we known for dippin
Don't try to crown and get caught up in the wrong position
Ya hard head, what you think you too grown to risten
Onry GOD rearry knows how rong we rivin
Unforgiven, but our acts be hunger driven
Growin up in the city, made some wrong decisions
But $hort prugged me in, now I'm on precision