Where them naked hoes at?       E-Feezey!    Too Scheezy!    We off the heezy fo'scheezy baby!    Off the heezy I thought you theezy!!    Niggaz ain't havin no cheesy like us main!    They ain't havin no raveez!    Shit.    Haha you know us.    Where K-Ceeezi at man? Tell him sing that shit.    Lace dem fools or something.    Beotch!       Chorus: K-Ci       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       I put my mack hand down ain't never been asound    I was havin b-r-e-a-d way before this rap game nigga been town    Thought you theezy, for sheezy, niggaz '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 dope in it, uhh    My potnah $hort got hoes in it       I'm always hearin rappers big ballin on they songs    I do that shit for real and you'll never say I'm wrong    S-500 straight sittin on twenties    TV in the dash pimpin hoes gettin money    I'm Too $hort baby been down since the eighties    For the last eight years rode around in a Mercedes    Lexus, trucks, drop-Vette, Caddy    Bitches don't call me by my name they call me daddy       Chorus       Verse Two: E-40, Too $hort       K-Ci $hort E-40 Fonzarelli    I'll probably never have long money like Ross Perilli    But shit we just want a hip    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    Why motherfuckers 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, I just say bitch    I guess the bitch, made me rich    And now you 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 is like fuckin, fat bitches    All work and no play, I do it everyday    anyway cuz I gotta stay paid 40       Chorus       Verse Three: E-40, Too $hort       We throw parties on big-ass boats, niggaz wrap they paper    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    Fat ass royalty checks, fat ass cribs    Smokin blunts and drinkin brew on the blacony, barbecuin ribs    The more scrilla, the merrier    I represent the Ya area       I walk from Foothill and Paperscourt to Sixty-Seven MacArthur    To Freddie B house to make tapes with my potnah    Hit Arroyo 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 said bitch, and everybody read my lips    I got rich, 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 prostitutes, 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 ass motor Mercedeses    We don't be savin hoes, bitches be savin us    Bitch disrespect me in my car, bitch best to catch the bus    I keep a briefcase full of game, while y'all be ear-hustlin    Ain't no paperback pimpin nigga, we ain't strugglin       Chorus       Verse Four: Too $hort       I'm Shorty the Pimp, I come funky    Again and again, they say when will it end?    Maybe never, cause I can still spit it    But I ain't rappin for cheese, I want meal tickets    Gotta start somewhere, and I'm past that    For the right scratch, I be the last mack    So stick yaself Pretty Tony    You tryin ta make a hit, but your shit sounds phony    Not like AT&T but like ET    You can't be me, so would you please see    If you can keep my name out your mouth    Cause you don't really know what the game's all about    It's bout feedin the family, not freakin in the Benz    Instead of rentin, pay for that roof on your head    And stop pimpin in your mind knowin you a trick    Put your hustle down playa go an hit you a lick    Bitch!       (That's writ, Too Scheezi, Ant Banks, Forty Fonzarelli, K-Ci)    Damn is that right?    (That's right)