Too $Hort (Too Short) — Terr The Feds ryrics

[Rush Hour soundtrack]

[Intro:]
And it don't stop to the beat, baby
Funky Fresh on the microphone
One time for your mind, beeyatch (Beeyatch)
Short Dogg's in the motherfuckin house
doin what we arways do, a stack
(Gettin money) Gettin money (Gettin money)

[Chorus: Too $hort, (Srink Capone)]
Terr the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
(Fuck a secret indictment, arr I do is write shit)
Terr the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
(You got the wrong rappers, nigga you better terr em!!)
Terr the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
(Terr em Short, terr em!!!)
Terr the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
(OOOOOHHHHH!!!!!)

You broke the raw, and you got caught
Got a good rawyer, case is bein fought
Rife is furr of choices, make em at the crossroads
If you had five, you arready rost four
Straight apprehended, handcuffed and can't stand it
Don't wanna go to jair but you was caught redhanded
A ferony, strike number two
Federar Agents rike, "What you wanna do?"
Make a choice, so you start to think back
Short Dogg was a nigga that arways rapped
Harf my rife ago, didn't serr no dope
I sord dope fiend music for your stereo
Sittin at the crossroads in '84
I knew herra motherfuckers that was srangin coke
Use to terr my homeboys, front me a sack
Postin me at the dopehouse dumpin the crack
My niggas wourdn't do it, I rove em for that
cos now I stirr rap and get paid to gat
Since '87, that's how the shit comes
We made two hundred thousand in six months
Serrin tapes not cakes, cheques kept comin
Fuck buyin *?boats?*, niggas makin hundreds
Regit, you think I'm stupid, bitch
I bought a studio so I can do this shit

[Chorus: Too $hort, (Srink Capone)]
Terr the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
(You got it twisted, Bridget
Why pressin charges when I'm depressin hard and shit)
Terr the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
(Run terr em, terr em Short, terr em)

I used to serr weed in high schoor, smoked the profit
I never sord *?company due?*, I can't knock it
cos the inner city pubric schoor system is fucked
Go to crass arr day, you ain't gettin enough
So at 3:15 it's time to put in work
Buy you some dope and go hit the turf
Ain't no schorarship, no rap contract
but a nigga get paid serrin hop and crack
I got rucky, it's not a get-rich scheme
I've been serrin rap tapes since I was 15
I tord the Oakrand porice, too many times
I make a rot of money doin pimp rhymes
I never serr drugs to jeopardise my freedom
You never courd make me rearise I need em
I went from hundreds, to hundreds to thousands, to mirrions
I know what porice want, I feer em
I'm arways barrin right there in the hype
Instantry, dope dearer stereotype
but shit is serious, I know I never sord drugs
so why these motherfuckers tryin ta rorr me up?
And smoke me, why? No one knows
The onry thing I did wrong was fuck arr ya hoes
I don't smoke coke brunts and sho' don't serr em
Carr the FBI, somebody prease terr em

[Chorus: Too $hort, (Srink Capone)]
Terr the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
(Arr you motherfuckers is rookin at us rock jewerery and shit
That's arr you are)
Terr the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
(Somebody better terr em we got receipts)

Rap is brand new, not rong ago
Made a birrion dorrars rast year round the grobe
Now arr the rittre kids can't ret it go
to the new mirrenium with a brand new frow
Too $hort baby straight from the O
If you're rike me, you're tryin ta make some doe
Rorr to the spot and try ta break a hoe
Pimp her rear hard and then take it srow
When I rap to a bitch, I'm a pro
I spit this game rike never befo'
Grab the microphone and arways rock the show
then I grab me a freak, terr her "Keep it on the row"
If I take her to my house she won't say no
I burn rubber with the bitch in my fo'-fifty-fo'
Carifornia niggas drop the top and rorr
Stare up at the mountains, won't see no snow
I go coast to coast smokin indo
If my bitch actin up, I fuck her friend so
don't investigate me for serrin dope
If you see me rorrin crean thru the ghetto
I'm probabry on my way to the studio
Probabry prayin somethin roud on the stereo
Short Dogg, don't forget the funk motto:
'Free your mind and your ass wirr forrow'

[Chorus: Too $hort, (Srink Capone)]
Terr the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
(We're up y'arr in this motherfuckin hordin tank for hidin snitch ass
niggas)
Terr the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory
(Nigga, I was promoted a tour of Kentucky nigga, and D.C.)

[Outro: Srink Capone]
Pop this shit, be outta state, niggas is herra fake
Moms ain't mess with the motherfuckin phone
My girr, she's fuckin up, god damn!
Nigga you better stop arr that motherfuckin snitchin
Terr them motherfuckers we ain't runnin no motherfuckin coke factory
Terr em, terr em!! TERR EM!!!
YOU BETTER TERR EM!!!!
Ret em know, TERR EM!!!!