Lyrics:
Whodini disappeared and Doug E. Fresh went stale
And I think Sir Mix-A-Lot got into some bad ale
The Fat Boys broke up and then one of 'em died
And when I
the project and are you focused?
I just smile and ask them back, why you wanna know this?
Everybody got they hands out, here we go again
You ain't buy none
Through a libra sign
Up on one scale
While she's down on the other
Keeping it from tipping by pumping
I need you to realize
I love the way you dance baby
and roll tonight y’all
Might be experiencing a lot of pop shit
But the
Vibes is back! The prodigal son, Kid Cudi
Has returned! The vibes is back!
I know it’s
the butt? (Hell yeah)
Tell 'em to shake it (shake it) shake it (shake it)
Shake that healthy butt
Baby got back (L.A. face with the Oakland booty)
Baby
I'm talking bout you sir
It's gonna be the end of us won't it folks
Climate breakdown is rather tough tough tough
The arctic shelf is melting
Within
much that summer, even had him a baby
See back-back then-then if you had a car
You was the Chi-Town version of Baby
And I was just a virgin, a baby
much that summer, even had him a baby
See back-back then-then if you had a car
You was the Chi-Town version of Baby
And I was just a virgin, a baby
to roll
I got the strap by the seam of my clothes
Show a lil nigga this cutta on me not even his beef but his mans get expose
Putting down pressure you
We so jiggy up in here (let's go Weezy)
Slim baby, I see you (yes)
The streets make the hustlas
Hustlas make the world go 'round
The world is
got your bike I can't let you pop Willy
Y'all saw me at Kanye's third album with my cap no cap
My cousin Zu chilling in the stands with the Pack
And he
Sorry to the fans that want music and I just plea to wait
Asking how the album is coming and trying to see a date
Truly, I get lazy and I got problems
the bed I got it goin' on
I'm Sir Too $hort, couldn't be no punk
I try to get funky like female funk
So when you see me comin' or see me goin'
I keep my
the bed I got it goin' on
I'm Sir Too $hort, couldn't be no punk
I try to get funky like female funk
So when you see me comin' or see me goin'
I keep my
(Baby, you know, you know, you know I need your love)
You cannot find no one better than this
Try to do right by you, but we can't mix, I tried
the kush and a model in a trench coat
A Crip with a lot of cash, check on how the wrist roll
Baby saw it in my eyes and she knew that I was lookin at her
in jail, I hear the Latins got each other back
Not us, we jump each other for the phone, it comes to Black
Don't worry about nobody else tryin'
people
That call me Mystique what the plan is about
I got some evil that's scouting me
I got some people that count on me
Whole lot of demons that doubt
Uhh, you wanna be
It's Winnie Churchill, you motherfucker
I'm playing, I'm positive baby
I love you
God damn
I see your liquor
I know I am nigga
We so jiggy up in here (let's go Weezy)
Slim baby, I see you (yes)
The streets make the hustlas
Hustlas make the world go 'round
The world is
to spit a lot of game
But back then, I was just saying my name
I had a record player, on my stereo
Got down on my knees with my radio
From Oakland
the tales that I tell so well
(Short Dog)
I'm thinkin' way back, it's been a long, long time
In 1980 I wrote my first rhyme
I like to spit a lot of game
But
yeah
Check it, uh
I guess I take it back to graduation
Got my degree but writin'
Songs was my fascination
I got a job installin' cable
Then I got
shit
It's war time, best believe we ain't on no truce shit
Before yo' next move, think twice
'Cause that bum ass album you got could be yo' life
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