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tell the feds - too $hort lyrics

intro:

and it don’t stop to the beat, baby
funky fresh on the microphone
one time for your mind, beeyatch (beeyatch)
short dogg’s in the motherf-ckin house
doin what we always do, a stack
(gettin money) gettin money (gettin money)

chorus: too $hort, (slink capone)

tell the feds we ain’t runnin no c-ke factory
(f-ck a secret indictment, all i do is write sh-t)
tell the feds we ain’t runnin no c-ke factory
(you got the wrong rappers, n-gg- you better tell em!!)
tell the feds we ain’t runnin no c-ke factory
(tell em short, tell em!!!)
tell the feds we ain’t runnin no c-ke factory
(ooooohhhhh!!!!!)

verse one:

you broke the law, and you got caught
got a good lawyer, case is bein fought
life is full of choices, make em at the crossroads
if you had five, you already lost four
straight apprehended, handcuffed and can’t stand it
don’t wanna go to jail but you was caught redhanded
a felony, strike number two
federal agents like, “what you wanna do?”
make a choice, so you start to think back
short dogg was a n-gg- that always rapped
half my life ago, didn’t sell no dope
i sold dope fiend music for your stereo
sittin at the crossroads in ’84
i knew h-lla motherf-ckers that was slangin c-ke
use to tell my homeboys, front me a sack
postin me at the dopehouse dumpin the crack
my n-gg-s wouldn’t do it, i love em for that
cos now i still rap and get paid to gat
since ’87, that’s how the sh-t comes
we made two hundred thousand in six months
sellin tapes not cakes, cheques kept comin
f-ck buyin -?boats?-, n-gg-s makin hundreds
legit, you think i’m stupid, b-tch
i bought a studio so i can do this sh-t

chorus: too $hort, (slink capone)

tell the feds we ain’t runnin no c-ke factory
(you got it twisted, bridget
why pressin charges when i’m depressin hard and sh-t)
tell the feds we ain’t runnin no c-ke factory
(run tell em, tell em short, tell em)

verse two:

i used to sell weed in high school, smoked the profit
i never sold -?company due?-, i can’t knock it
cos the inner city public school system is f-cked
go to cl-ss all day, you ain’t gettin enough
so at 3:15 it’s time to put in work
buy you some dope and go hit the turf
ain’t no scholarship, no rap contract
but a n-gg- get paid sellin hop and crack
i got lucky, it’s not a get-rich scheme
i’ve been sellin rap tapes since i was 15
i told the oakland police, too many times
i make a lot of money doin pimp rhymes
i never sell drugs to jeopardise my freedom
you never could make me realise i need em
i went from hundreds, to hundreds to thousands, to millions
i know what police want, i feel em
i’m always ballin right there in the hype
instantly, dope dealer stereotype
but sh-t is serious, i know i never sold drugs
so why these motherf-ckers tryin ta roll me up?
and smoke me, why? no one knows
the only thing i did wrong was f-ck all ya hoes
i don’t smoke c-ke blunts and sho’ don’t sell em
call the fbi, somebody please tell em

chorus: too $hort, (slink capone)

tell the feds we ain’t runnin no c-ke factory
(all you motherf-ckers is lookin at us rock jewelery and sh-t
that’s all you are)
tell the feds we ain’t runnin no c-ke factory
(somebody better tell em we got receipts)

verse three:

rap is brand new, not long ago
made a billion dollars last year round the globe
now all the little kids can’t let it go
to the new millenium with a brand new flow
too $hort baby straight from the o
if you’re like me, you’re tryin ta make some doe
roll to the spot and try ta break a hoe
pimp her real hard and then take it slow
when i rap to a b-tch, i’m a pro
i spit this game like never befo’
grab the microphone and always rock the show
then i grab me a freak, tell her “keep it on the low”
if i take her to my house she won’t say no
i burn rubber with the b-tch in my fo’-fifty-fo’
california n-gg-s drop the top and roll
stare up at the mountains, won’t see no snow
i go coast to coast smokin indo
if my b-tch actin up, i f-ck her friend so
don’t investigate me for sellin dope
if you see me rollin clean thru the ghetto
i’m probably on my way to the studio
probably playin somethin loud on the stereo
short dogg, don’t forget the funk motto:
‘free your mind and your -ss will follow’

chorus: too $hort, (slink capone)

tell the feds we ain’t runnin no c-ke factory
(we’re up y’all in this motherf-ckin holdin tank for hidin snitch -ss
n-gg-s)
tell the feds we ain’t runnin no c-ke factory
(n-gg-, i was promoted a tour of kentucky n-gg-, and d.c.)

outro: slink capone

pop this sh-t, be outta state, n-gg-s is h-lla fake
moms ain’t mess with the motherf-ckin phone
my girl, she’s f-ckin up, god d-mn!
n-gg- you better stop all that motherf-ckin snitchin
tell them motherf-ckers we ain’t runnin no motherf-ckin c-ke factory
tell em, tell em!! tell em!!!
you better tell em!!!!
let em know, tell em!!!!

- too hort lyrics

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