I heard there was a rumor too $hort was dead
Walked in the house and got shot in the head
I know you dont believe it, if you do youre wrong
How can I die and rock it all night long?
Im too $hort baby, spit that rap
I put oakland, california on the map
Its so hard, got you telling lies
Cant hold me back so you say I died
Its incredible, I came back to life
I never let em bury me without my mic
I keep breathing, dont stop that breath
Now everybodys talking about too $horts death
Am I a zombie, or something close?
Im not casper, I mack all the ghosts
Oaktown style is the only way
I catch a new freak every day
Its not the yellow brick road, its called the foothill strip
Stand on your toes, make your heels go click
Three times, its no place like home
So why you wanna bury me all alone
I bring a new meaning to underground rap
Dead or alive, Im still born to mack
Always on the pop charts, straight rapping
Im not dead, Im just macking
So as the word turns, Im a living soul
I even heard a rumor that I overdosed
Im not a reincarnation of something old
Like king tut I was buried in gold
Why you wanna cry when Im still living?
Word got out and the rumors started spreading
My momma, called one night
Said "todd, are you all right?
The whole familys got the too $hort blues
I heard it last night on the evening news"
And thats bad, its not even true
I told my momma like this "lets sue"
So many times, I heard I died
I guess Im like a cat and I got nine lives
Well Im the p-l-a, y-e-r
I lay bunnies, like hugh heffner
Im her flavor, kinda saucy
I lay back and let the young freak toss me
Even if she dont like serving a pimp
Im still living, so lets do it again
I keep rapping, hard as hell
Cause your rumors make my records sell
If you continue, Ill soon be rich
Riding around town going "biiiitch!"
People always say "too $hort cant rap"
Now I drive a benz and my bank is fat
Its like crap, put a "c" on a rhyme
Aint nothing left homie but a scandalous crime
Im the best damn rapper you could ever hate
Say I died on the freeway in the earthquake
Say Im washed up, say Im through
But the fact still stands Im better than you
You got rhymes? well I got more
I take you on a trip to my rappin store
You find rhymes and raps, poems and caps
Way more raps than any rapper could rap
Cause if you rap like me, he wouldnt have to be
Weak on the mic like my boy mc
It dont stop, to the funky beat
I know you like dancing with a real big freak
I cant dance, but I sure can rhyme
I sold a million, in 89
And if you didnt know baby, its the 90s now
Old short dog got a new breakdown
I went to mikos, fresh candy paint
Now Im doing things that the suckers cant
If I was dead, theyd call it "dead mans rap"
But on the real, short dog is back
Funk funky, off the parliament
Im still living, so lets do it again
Its incredible, even if I die
I never let em bury me without my mic
I bring a new meaning, to underground rap
Dead or alive, Im still born to mack
I say "whats up" to my homies in santa rita
Right about now I know you need a
Too $hort rhyme to get you through the day
Oaktown style is the only way
I came up, and now Ive sworn
To rock this mic til I cant no more
And thats game, straight pop the most
Mc rapper from the west coast
Too $hort, dead or alive
I still chill on the eastside
Cause I remember how it all began
House parties in east oakland
Now its on the pop charts, still rapping
Im not dead, Im just macking
