Too $hort — Violent

[Intro: Too $hort] Ay, F.A.B., mayne, what’s going on out here, nigga? Niggas out here robbing niggas Running up on niggas, knocking niggas down, nigga Niggas is not taking no shit out here in the Bay, mayne It’s like real muthafuckin’ crazy right now, nigga Rap niggas, street niggas, square niggas Niggas 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 bitch kinda wet, looking like an island She on something, I can see her eyelids Keak tryna tell me ‘bout some shit that I did I’m getting juiced and I’m feeling violent [Verse 1: Mistah F.A.B.] Nigga, I don’t give a fuck ‘bout getting kicked out this club Every nigga that I’m with ‘bout to turn the fuck up C.T. on the beat, man, you know that shit slap That’s your freak on the beat ‘bout to make her ass clap Give a fuck he gets mad—pussy nigga, do something You a sucka, you a sissy, you ain’t ‘bout to nothing You a Cookie, I’m a Lucious; Eazy-E, bitch, I’m Ruthless We go stupid like it’s still ’06, you a doofus, bitch, you’re useless After I fuck, man, I call that bitch a Uber I’ll slide on your squad like a kid on a scooter And your bitch on my dick from the rooter to the tooter You an Internet thug, you only hard on a computer Fuck your bitch 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 bitch on ice like a cooler [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 bitch kinda wet, looking like an island She on something, I can see her eyelids Keak tryna tell me ‘bout some shit that I did I’m getting juiced and I’m feeling violent [Verse 2: Mistah F.A.B.] Security better go on somewhere, ‘Fuck you mean ain’t no hats?’ Bitch, 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 Fuck them freeloading bitches—they ain’t chip in, they ain’t sippin’ $hort, go on with all that cool shit, talkin’ ’bout I’m trippin’ Muthafuckin’ right I’m trippin’, they done charged me some bands So if a bitch wanna sip, I bet she comin’ out her pants Bitch better dance, fuck 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 bitch and get the fuck off my dick!” Crack a nigga in his head with a champagne bottle Little Brodie keep a .40 and that .40 filled with hollows We gon’ kick this bitch off, we startin’ a riot You know them Oakland niggas crazy, bitch, we violent [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 bitch kinda wet, looking like an island She on something, I can see her eyelids Keak tryna tell me ‘bout some shit that I did I’m getting juiced and I’m feeling violent [Outro: Too $hort] Get the fuck out my face, punk bitch Get the fuck out my space, broke nigga Get the fuck out my face, punk bitch I don’t wanna talk to no niggas Get the fuck out my face, punk bitch Get the fuck out my space, broke nigga Get the fuck out my face, punk bitch I don’t wanna talk to no niggas, BITCH! 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? Nigga 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? Fuck wit’ it…