Don’t Stop Rappin’ (8Ball & MJG Version) Too $hort
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[Intro: Eightball & Too $hort]
Space agein', baby (Don't stop rappin')
Right, right, right, right
One time
Bitch
Yeah, you know how we like it, baby
[Verse 1: Too $hort & (Eightball)]
From 1980 through '88
I don't stop rappin' like my first tapes
When I was broke, I used to sell 'em instantly (Instantly)
One look, you could tell it was the pimp in me (The pimp in me)
In '89, I went on tour with Eazy-E (Eazy-E)
A bunch of fine bitches tryin' to sleep with me
Every night sold out, turnin' young hoes out
Tell her, "Baby, no doubt, stick this dick in your mouth"
I smoked a lot of weed, I said a lot of rhymes (That's right)
Always fuck other niggas' bitches all the time
Now I'm ridin' on 20's, wearin' nice clothes (Nice clothes)
But ain't nothin' like pimpin' hoes, and ridin' Vogues
I live a good life, in my pursuit of happiness
I'm so glad to get to the point of havin' this
Opportunity, for you and me to pass it on
Two years ago, I thought it'd be my last song
[Verse 2: Eightball]
Me, Squeeky, Flex, and J, on Saratoga Street
Smokin' white boys bumpin' "Dope Fiend Beat"
'88, my pockets wasn't straight but I was makin' it
Niggas like Lil Tim was out there ballin', sellin' cakes and shit
I was right there, on Lamar Circle, writin' raps
All about my snaps, tryin' to put Ball & G on the map
Nowadays, I own my shit and bone bad bitches
Kickin' it wit' rich niggas in Rovers and candy 6's
Deliverin' hot shit like Pizza Hut for them hardcore thugs
Niggas who pimp bitches and hit the highway with them drugs
Feel my flow, mix it in wit' your chronic, mayne
Short Dog, I don't know why you tried to leave this game
State to state, plenty hoes and plenty money to make
Writin' raps, makin' more than them niggas movin' weight
The game been good to me and I know that muhfucka blessed you
Thanks for passin' game, now let's get out here and make this loot
Space agein', baby (Don't stop rappin')
Right, right, right, right
One time
Bitch
Yeah, you know how we like it, baby
[Verse 1: Too $hort & (Eightball)]
From 1980 through '88
I don't stop rappin' like my first tapes
When I was broke, I used to sell 'em instantly (Instantly)
One look, you could tell it was the pimp in me (The pimp in me)
In '89, I went on tour with Eazy-E (Eazy-E)
A bunch of fine bitches tryin' to sleep with me
Every night sold out, turnin' young hoes out
Tell her, "Baby, no doubt, stick this dick in your mouth"
I smoked a lot of weed, I said a lot of rhymes (That's right)
Always fuck other niggas' bitches all the time
Now I'm ridin' on 20's, wearin' nice clothes (Nice clothes)
But ain't nothin' like pimpin' hoes, and ridin' Vogues
I live a good life, in my pursuit of happiness
I'm so glad to get to the point of havin' this
Opportunity, for you and me to pass it on
Two years ago, I thought it'd be my last song
[Verse 2: Eightball]
Me, Squeeky, Flex, and J, on Saratoga Street
Smokin' white boys bumpin' "Dope Fiend Beat"
'88, my pockets wasn't straight but I was makin' it
Niggas like Lil Tim was out there ballin', sellin' cakes and shit
I was right there, on Lamar Circle, writin' raps
All about my snaps, tryin' to put Ball & G on the map
Nowadays, I own my shit and bone bad bitches
Kickin' it wit' rich niggas in Rovers and candy 6's
Deliverin' hot shit like Pizza Hut for them hardcore thugs
Niggas who pimp bitches and hit the highway with them drugs
Feel my flow, mix it in wit' your chronic, mayne
Short Dog, I don't know why you tried to leave this game
State to state, plenty hoes and plenty money to make
Writin' raps, makin' more than them niggas movin' weight
The game been good to me and I know that muhfucka blessed you
Thanks for passin' game, now let's get out here and make this loot
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