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zuò cí : Shaw |
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Sunshine, convertable tops |
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You call ' em rags, we call ' em drops |
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You ride black walls, we ride vogues |
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You got a girlfriend, we pimp hoes |
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You say i' m fake, i say you' re smoking |
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I' m just a mack named hort from oakland |
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Just like a tag team wrestling tip |
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With a nasty bitch, then the homie switch |
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Bitch, ain' t getting nothing but a lesson taught |
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If your pimping ain' t strong, it' s not my fault |
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Hoes start choosing, wouldn' t give ' em a break |
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I pull out my old white too hort tape |
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I' m playing " dope fiend beat" and the shit still hits |
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Trying to stick my dick all in them lips |
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She said " no, i never did it before" |
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Well you ain' t the bitch i' m looking for |
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Cause she' s rich and thick and chocolate |
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Wouldn' t hesitate to lick my dick |
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All my parters say " hort what' s up?" |
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See me with a bitch with a bigass butt |
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I don' t answer, i start laughing |
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Nothing going on but the oaktown macking |
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Laying it right, all damn night |
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Hoes getting sprung like they smoking the pipe |
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El dorado, mazeratti |
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Nothing but freaks with fine bodies |
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I love to roll my mercedes benz |
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I' m nothing but a player like all my friends |
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So when you call me fake, be for real |
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The call me short dog cause i' m hard as hell |
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Hope your girlfriend' s name ain' t linelle |
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I screwed her last night in a cheap motel |
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Like i told my crew, when the toss up' s chill |
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Humping like a chevy rolling down foothill |
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Get off the pipe fool, stop cracking |
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Be like short dog and start macking |
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T double o short |
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I go solo, can' t nobody fuck with me |
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I' ll just kick back counting my bank |
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No cokes smoking, just potent dank |
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Funky fresh on the microphone |
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When you spin that wax, it' s not the same ol' song |
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Round and round it goes, where it stops no one knows |
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You see me at the clubs catching all the hoes |
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I don' t drink vodka, i do drink gin |
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I like to get a blowjob from your girlfriend |
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Cause i' m macking, baby, you know that' s right |
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I' m from the oaktown, straight eastside |
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I got all my game from east oakland streets |
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Now motherfuck you damn shithaired freaks |
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I go on and on as i sing my song |
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If you' re tender and young, i fuck you all night long |
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I' m not a nogood punk, i didn' t make you flunk |
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I didn' t tell the whole world your pussy stunk |
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I cut you slack in my rap, i could' ve macked your mother |
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But life is too hort so i kept it undercover |
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I' m so damn hard, on the boulevard |
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Hoes ain' t tripping on me, they wanna fuck my car |
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Freak nasty don' t trip, to me it ain' t shit |
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You can suck my dick with some fat hoe lips |
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Riding in a caddy with the top let down |
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California sunshine, cruising the town |
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On the boulevard, maybe drop my top |
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If you' re feeling hot, don' t even stop |
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Cause it feels so good, i' m oh so sprung |
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They way you work that tongue, it just makes me cum |
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I told all my homies, all about |
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The way i bust big nuts, in your mouth |
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On the boulevard, we' re riding oh so real |
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Not skyline, i' m talking about foothill |
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And when it ended, you know what happened |
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I' m so hard i just can' t stop macking |
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I know i gotta stop sooner, but i' ll stop later |
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They call me short dog, i' m nothing but a player |
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I know what she' s thinking, " i' m falling in love" |
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But there' s another freak i' m thinking of |
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She' s got long long hair, she' s not like you though |
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She' ll do whatever i say, she' ll even be my hoe |
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Cause i don' t wanna get married, i' d rather freak mary |
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Make good love and i do mean very |
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Wherever i go, it' s the same old case |
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Same damn thing all over the place |
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nothing but bitches tightass jeans to pose in |
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I used to ride the strip trying to catch the hoes |
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They wasn' t choosing, nope not these hoes |
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They wanted big time vettes, riding brand new vouges |
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So like i said before, i ain' t tripping |
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Told myself it' s time to stop bullshitting |
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Did the gangster walk, did it like this |
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Walked up to a girl and i called her a bitch |
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I said " my name is hort, i don' t play games |
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I only play young bitches, now what' s your name?" |
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She said " i wouldn' t tell you in all my life |
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You' re just a little thug, you' re not my type" |
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I said " i' m sir too hort, couldn' t be no punk" |
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East oaktown is where i' m from |
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You see wherever i go, it' s the same old case |
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Same damn thing all over the place |
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nothing but bitches mad cause i told the truth |
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I' m calling you one and you can call me, too |
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Call me too hort, call me " too thin" |
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But you wouldn' t get a dime out of this pimp |
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So just give it up baby and i' ll run right through ya |
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Maybe just maybe i' ll come back to ya |
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Like too clean, i' m riding cadillac |
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I hit the strip, turn around, and come right back |
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See i' m a big mack, and every bitch in sight |
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Says " is that short dog sitting at a red light?" |