I heard there was a rumor Too $hort was dead Walked in the house and got shot in the head I know you don't believe it, if you do you're wrong How can I die and rock it all night long? I'm Too $hort baby, spit that rap I put Oakland, California on the map It's so hard, got you telling lies Can't hold me back so you say I died It's incredible, I came back to life I never let 'em bury me without my mic I keep breathing, don't stop that breath Now everybody's talking about Too $hort's death Am I a zombie, or something close? I'm not Casper, I mack all the ghosts Oaktown style is the only way I catch a new freak every day It's not the Yellow Brick Road, it's called the Foothill Strip Stand on your toes, make your heels go click Three times, it's no place like home So why you wanna bury me all alone I bring a new meaning to underground rap Dead or Alive, I'm still Born to Mack Always on the pop charts, straight rapping I'm not dead, I'm just macking
So as the word turns, I'm a living soul I even heard a rumor that I overdosed I'm not a reincarnation of something old Like King Tut I was buried in gold Why you wanna cry when I'm still living? Word got out and the rumors started spreading My momma, called one night Said "Todd, are you all right? The whole family's got the Too $hort blues I heard it last night on the evening news" And that's bad, it's not even true I told my momma like this "Let's sue" So many times, I heard I died I guess I'm like a cat and I got nine lives Well I'm the P-L-A, Y-E-R I lay bunnies, like Hugh Heffner I'm her flavor, kinda saucy I lay back and let the young freak toss me Even if she don't like serving a pimp I'm still living, so let's do it again I keep rapping, hard as hell Cause your rumors make my records sell If you continue, I'll soon be rich Riding around town going "Biiiitch!"
People always say "Too $hort can't rap" Now I drive a Benz and my bank is fat It's like crap, put a "c" on a rhyme Ain't nothing left homie but a scandalous crime I'm the best damn rapper you could ever hate Say I died on the freeway in the earthquake Say I'm washed up, say I'm through But the fact still stands I'm better than you You got rhymes? Well I got more I take you on a trip to my rappin' store You find rhymes and raps, poems and caps Way more raps than any rapper could rap Cause if you rap like me, he wouldn't have to be Weak on the mic like my boy MC It don't stop, to the funky beat I know you like dancing with a real big freak I can't dance, but I sure can rhyme I sold a million, in '89 And if you didn't know baby, it's the 90's now Old Short Dog got a new breakdown I went to Miko's, fresh candy paint Now I'm doing things that the suckers can't If I was dead, they'd call it "Dead Man's Rap" But on the real, Short Dog is back
Funk funky, off the Parliament I'm still living, so let's do it again It's incredible, even if I die I never let 'em bury me without my mic I bring a new meaning, to underground rap Dead or alive, I'm still Born to Mack I say "What's up" to my homies in Santa Rita Right about now I know you need a Too $hort rhyme to get you through the day Oaktown style is the only way I came up, and now I've sworn To rock this mic til I can't no more And that's game, straight pop the most MC rapper from the West Coast Too $hort, dead or alive I still chill on the Eastside Cause I remember how it all began House parties in East Oakland Now it's on the pop charts, still rapping I'm not dead, I'm just mackingTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
