[8B] Space, Age-in baby 

[TS] Right right right right 

[8B] One time 

[TS] Beyotch! 

[8B] Yeah, you know how they like it baby, nigga you can't retire! 



Verse One: Too $hort, Eightball 



From nineteen-eighty, through eighty-eight 

I Don't Stop Rappin like my first tapes 

When I was broke, I used to sell em instantly (instantly) 

One look, you could tell it was the pimp in me (pimp in me) 

In eighty-nine, I went on tour with Eazy-E (Eazy-E) 

A bunch of fine bitches tryin to sleep with me 

Every night, sold out, turnin young hoes 

Tell her baby, no doubt, stick this dick in yo' mouth 

I smoked a lot of weed, I said a lot of rhymes 

Always fucked up in niggaz bitches all the time 

Now I'm ridin on twenties wearin nice clothes 

but ain't nuttin like pimpin hoes, and ridin Vogues 

I live a good life, in my pursuit of happiness 

I'm so glad, to get to the point of havin this 

opportunity, for you and me to pass it on 

Two years ago, I thought it'd be my last song 



Me, Squeaky, Flex and J, on Saratoga Street 

Smokin white boys, bumpin dopefiend beats 

Eighty-eight, my pockets wasn't straight, but I was makin it 

Niggaz like Lil' Tim was out there ballin sellin cakes n shit 

I was right there, on the Mob Circle, writin raps 

All about my snaps, tryin to put Ball and G on the map 

Nowadays I own my shit and bone bad bitches 

Kickin it with rich niggaz in rollers, and candy sixes 

Deliverin hot shit like Pizza Hut for them hardcore thugs 

Niggaz who pimp bitches and hit the highway with them drugs 

Feel my flow, mix it in witcha chronic main 

$hort Dawg, I don't know why you tryin to leave this game 

State to state, plenty hoes and plenty money to make 

Writing raps, makin more