E-Feezey!
Too Scheezy!
Yeah we off the heezy in this beezy main
Off the heezy I thought you theezy!!
Hey man where your boy K-Ceeezi at main??
Ain't no tellin, ay K-Ci!
Aight aight get up here and sprinkle some of these fools man
Lace em up the same Playboy get up!
Chorus:
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
Claimin that your mail is tall
Tell me is it true or false
Verse One: E-40, Too $hort
Now I put my back end down ain't never been aside
I was havin b-r-e-a-d way before this rap game fool I been tapped
Thought you theezy, for sheezy, fools 'member
Earl, Brat, and Denell dem boys from Vallel
At every light it's automatic, BURN RUBBER
See my folkers in the traffic, WHASSUP ERB
Follow that cab it got yole in it
My potnah $hort got some broads in it
I'm always hearin rappers big ballin on they songs
I live like that for real and you'll never say I'm wrong
S-500 straight sittin on twenties
TV in the dash dippin fast gettin money
I'm Too $hort baby been down since the eighties
For the last eight years I've rolled around in a Mercedes
Lexus, trucks, drop that Caddy
Women don't call me by my name they call me daddy
Chorus
Verse Two: E-40, Too $hort
K-Ci $hort E-40 times are really
I'll probably never have long money like Ross Perilli
But shit we just want an 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 Versacci
How come we can't be broke sometimes?
Sometimes it's cool to floss
But don't buy an eighty-five thousand dollar car
Before you buy a house
They always said I couldn't rap wit my dirty lyrics
I guess they fear it, I couldn't hear it
And now they wanna call me hardcore
While I be steppin out the shower on a marble floor
I paid the IRS taxes send FedEx and faxes
This industry'll never ever see me
I work hard and don't play handle mine everyday
anyway cuz I gotta stay paid 40
Chorus
Verse Three: E-40, Too $hort
With cold parties on big ole boats
Fools up out they people, ultrafied all-inclusive trips, Montego Jamaica
Front row seats at the Ultimate Fights, shamrock and severin
Long expensive fuh-flights, up dere in the heavens
Big ole royalty checks, humungous crib
Smokin bless and drinkin Bruno on the balcony, barbecuin ribs
The more scrilla, the merrier
I represent the Ya area
I walk from Foothill and Tray escort to Sixty-Seventh and Arthur
To Freddie B's house to make tapes with my potnah
Hit up Royal 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 started rappin, and everybody read my lips
I kept mackin, suckin up the game from the O
and even though a lot of rappers got the same kind of flow
I survived cuz I got mo', game than them
It came straight from the bitches, players, and pimps
It was my destiny, I came the same every time
So don't question me, I transfer the game in the rhymes
I'm not a freestyler, don't rap for free main
It's Paystyle on mine, cuz I love money main
Landrovers and Toyota, Lexuses
Six-hundred feet twelve with them big ol motor Mercedeses
We don't be savin broads, hoes be savin us
Hoe respect me in my car, baitch best to catch the bus
I keep a briefcase full of game, while y'all be ear-hustlin
Ain't no paperback pimp playboy, we ain't strugglin
