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 motherfuckin 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 coke factory

(Fuck a secret indictment, all I do is write shit)

Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory

(You got the wrong rappers, nigga you better tell em!!)

Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory

(Tell em Short, tell em!!!)

Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke 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 nigga 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 hella motherfuckers that was slangin coke

Use to tell my homeboys, front me a sack

Postin me at the dopehouse dumpin the crack

My niggas 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 shit comes

We made two hundred thousand in six months

Sellin tapes not cakes, cheques kept comin

Fuck buyin *?boats?*, niggas makin hundreds

Legit, you think I'm stupid, bitch

I bought a studio so I can do this shit



Chorus: Too $hort, (Slink Capone)



Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory

(You got it twisted, Bridget

  Why pressin charges when I'm depressin hard and shit)

Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke 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 fucked

Go to class 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 nigga 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 shit is serious, I know I never sold drugs

so why these motherfuckers tryin ta roll me up?

And smoke me, why? No one knows

The only thing I did wrong was fuck all ya hoes

I don't smoke coke 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 coke factory

(All you motherfuckers is lookin at us rock jewelery and shit

  That's all you are)

Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke 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 bitch, 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 bitch in my fo'-fifty-fo'

California niggas drop the top and roll

Stare up at the mountains, won't see no snow

I go coast to coast smokin indo

If my bitch actin up, I fuck 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 ass will follow'



Chorus: Too $hort, (Slink Capone)



Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory

(We're up y'all in this motherfuckin holdin tank for hidin snitch ass

niggas)

Tell the Feds we ain't runnin no coke factory

(Nigga, I was promoted a tour of Kentucky nigga, and D.C.)



Outro: Slink Capone



Pop this shit, be outta state, niggas is hella fake

Moms ain't mess with the motherfuckin phone

My girl, she's fuckin up, god damn!

Nigga you better stop all that motherfuckin snitchin

Tell them motherfuckers we ain't runnin no motherfuckin coke factory

Tell em, tell em!! TELL EM!!!

YOU BETTER TELL EM!!!!

Let em know, TELL EM!!!!