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violent - too $hort lyrics

[intro: too $hort]
ay, f.a.b., mayne, what’s going on out here, n-gg-?
n-gg-s out here robbing n-gg-s
running up on n-gg-s, knocking n-gg-s down, n-gg-
n-gg-s is not taking no sh-t out here in the bay, mayne
it’s like real m-th-f-ckin’ crazy right now, n-gg-
rap n-gg-s, street n-gg-s, square n-gg-s
n-gg-s is getting real out here
what’s going on here, f.a.b.?

[chorus: mistah f.a.b.]
i said this drink in my cup got feeling violent
this pill that i popped got me feeling violent
this thang on my hip got me feeling violent
(“hi, kids, do you like violence?”)
your b-tch kinda wet, looking like an island
she on something, i can see her eyelids
keak tryna tell me ‘bout some sh-t that i did
i’m getting juiced and i’m feeling violent

[verse 1: mistah f.a.b.]
n-gg-, i don’t give a f-ck ‘bout getting kicked out this club
every n-gg- that i’m with ‘bout to turn the f-ck up
c.t. on the beat, man, you know that sh-t slap
that’s your freak on the beat ‘bout to make her -ss clap
give a f-ck he gets mad—p-ssy n-gg-, do something
you a sucka, you a sissy, you ain’t ‘bout to nothing
you a cookie, i’m a lucious; eazy-e, b-tch, i’m ruthless
we go stupid like it’s still ’06, you a doofus, b-tch, you’re useless
after i f-ck, man, i call that b-tch a uber
i’ll slide on your squad like a kid on a scooter
and your b-tch on my d-ck from the rooter to the tooter
you an internet thug, you only hard on a computer
f-ck your b-tch then i boot her, bust one on her hooters
leave her in the boondocks, aaron mcgruder
shrunk up like a tutor, act like i never knew her
i leave a punk b-tch on ice like a cooler

[verse 2: mistah f.a.b.]
security better go on somewhere, ‘f-ck you mean ain’t no hats?’
b-tch, i already bought a table, and it cost me two racks
better have my bottles right, and the chasers on point
got some ‘woods rolled up, got some papers for a joint
f-ck them freeloading b-tches—they ain’t chip in, they ain’t sippin’
$hort, go on with all that cool sh-t, talkin’ ’bout i’m trippin’
m-th-f-ckin’ right i’m trippin’, they done charged me some bands
so if a b-tch wanna sip, i bet she comin’ out her pants
b-tch better dance, f-ck a groupie and a stan
“get away from me, blood! i don’t want no pictures with no man!
all these hoes up in here, and you tryna take a flick?
better knock you a b-tch and get the f-ck off my d-ck!”
crack a n-gg- in his head with a champagne bottle
little brodie keep a .40 and that .40 filled with hollows
we gon’ kick this b-tch off, we startin’ a riot
you know them oakland n-gg-s crazy, b-tch, we violent

[outro: too $hort]
get the f-ck out my face, punk b-tch
get the f-ck out my sp-ce, broke n-gg-
get the f-ck out my face, punk b-tch
i don’t wanna talk to no n-gg-s
get the f-ck out my face, punk b-tch
get the f-ck out my sp-ce, broke n-gg-
get the f-ck out my face, punk b-tch
i don’t wanna talk to no n-gg-s, b-tch!

i’m from the town; got my dj in the house, dj slow poke
he from the rich—what’s up, richmond?
what’s up, frisco? what’s up, epa?
what’s up, berkeley? what’s up, oakland? n-gg-
we out here, mayne—i see you vallejo, uh
say something—we riding all the way to sac tonight, mayne
what’s up with it, baby? f-ck wit’ it…

- too hort lyrics

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