All About It-Too $hort/*** C

[Verse 1 - Too $hort] Now who's sleeping on the midwest, better get your head checked Niggas gonnna feel this, even all the rednecks Bounce to the beat when they hear this sh*t I've been underground damn near 20 years in the mix I moved down south cuz old man was wild My lil homie rapping on, came to show you how To take my skills and keep paying the bills F**k what you're saying cuz I'm staying real The young homies keep me on my toes, still got the old flow Book me in your town and there'll never be a no-show Kick it down south where they keeping it crunk Cuz the niggas down south got they own funk! You heard about the West Coast, heard about the East Coast Heard about Miami-base, but what about [?] Or Kalamazoo, they got MC's too! If you come around my crew, you gonna have to say a few Or you can just get your b**ch-a** out You come to me you can play, sing, rap, no doubt You got to go, what the f**k is this? Hip-Hop Culture or the music business? [Chorus - Pimp C] B**ch, I'm so all about it I just can't live without it B**ch, I'm so all about it I just can't live without it Ni**a I'm so all about it I just can't live without it B**ch, I'm so all about it I just can't live without it Ni**a I'm so... [Verse 2 - Pimp C + Too $hort] (Pimp C): B**ch it's all about the indo w**d and stacking money In this land of milk and honey, ain't a damn thing funny Let's put this sh*t together, Too $hort and Pimp-C Put niggas on the map from Oakland to P.A.T (Too $hort): Chicago and Detroit, Houston, Dallas Support Short records and you can have this Funk 'till eternity, folks gotta learn to be together Cuz we all on the same journey So as I roll, I'ma look out for you If I see you do it wrong I take my time and show you How to get it right, make money every night Gotta use your brain if you wanna win the fight East coast, West coast, who got the best flow? Maybe at your next show, niggas oughta test your Crowd skills, and check your record sales Then we'll find out how you fake as hell I said it ain't where you from it's how you do it where you're at Real players from your town all knew that you was whack Fake ni**a in Cali', fake ni**a in New York Small time, you never be bigger than $hort Now why you trying to front so hard? You from a gangster town but you is a punk a** mark Respect don't come cuz of where you from Keep it real in your heart from square one And all you highly influenced followers, on the wrong path Spitting game to make the motherf**king song last It's a shame you can't make no cash Everytime we roll out we gotta wait on your a** You're just slow, can't be down with nation wide Cuz we seriously, trying to get the paper right Talking bout contracts, cash flow, credit cards, mean cars Signin lot of that for the next 16 bars Make a hit, get paid, get laid, what you want Tellin motherf**kers where you getting all that money from $hort records now you trying to flip 18's Got what it takes make a hit, make G's! [Chorus] [Verse 3 - Pimp-C] Sweet Jones, the pimp of the year Riding drop elderado with two carrots in my ear My baby momma brother put me down with the D I bought my babe a 'lac and changed my name to Pimp-C I put the pimping down to the hoes Now $hort got me rocking on the microphone And all the trill niggas riding trues and vogues And all the b**ch niggas trying to buy these hoes Got a b**ch try to chip me on my cellular phone Smelling like 64-dollar cologne Ni**a got mad cuz his b**ch chose me But you just showed you ain't no real P.I.M.P Like Kool Mack A Ace and Sir Captain You ain't no goldy motherf**ker you was acting And all that punk sh*t we could do without it I'm still down with Master P so b**ch I'm 'bout it! [Chorus] [Verse 4 - Pimp-C+Too $hort] (Pimp C): I dip from city to city, squeezing a** and titties The head was good, but the p**sy was shitty She just wanna kick it with a rap star The b**ch got freaky, tried to f**k my car! ATL, the city of bless Where hoes like to take big dick in they belly Got two freaks from Decateur wanna lick our sacks I tried hit you $hort, man where the f**k was you at? (Too $hort): Out in Nashville, Tenessee B**ches in with me for sure Sipping on the Remy X ho! With the hoes, last night I did that Every blue moon I got to pull out my big hat Do some more sh*t other niggas can't do Like hooking up this funky a** nation wide crew We come from everywhere, working under one roof Come through, front, somebody might stump you With a rhyme or a boot What you finna do? Getting blood all over my ni**a's tennish shoe You better take my advice and get lost fast Before them boys from Texas, get off in your a** And it won't be pretty, if my uncle Frank Middy Come lookin for you, shooting at you, it gets shitty! But in your mind you rank higher than me Put your money in the bank then come wire it to me Cuz I'll flip it, while you trying to buy a new car Find me in the studio signing new stars Take a hundred thousand dollars make a quick million Start from the floor and go straight to the ceiling You hiding from reality, ni**a you is a b**ch Niggas like me get used to getting rich Signing autographs, taking pictures of my fans Hit the town and take your b**ch to my place She get a bigger and better deal, f**king with me I heard $hort dog ran up in your freak! She dissapeared, heard she went to Cali! Jumped on the plane, and flew the b**ch to Maui Or maybe Atlanta, I got your b**ch posted Popping champagne bottles 'bout to get roasted Chilling at the house, me and four hoes Jumped in the jacuzzi ain't wearing no clothes [Chorus] (Pimp-C spitting game during the last chorus) Say $hort can I f**k? Smoke something b**ch B**ch! Hol' up