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Too Short - Call It Gangster lyrics
[Petey Pablo:] I was so glad, when they said unto me Let us go into the house, of the gangsters [Chorus: Petey Pablo] If you don't call this gangster, I don't know what a gangster is If you don't call this gangster, you don't know what gangster is Said it's one thing to be real, but real ain't all a gangster is If you don't call this gangster, you don't know what gangster is I know [Petey Pablo:] I was so glad... I only smoke with the folks that came in when I came in I don't smoke with bitches cause I don't know where they mouth been Dawg I'm a celebrity, I got fans, I don't need friends I don't need security, cause they ain't checked me when I came in All that you impressed with, is what I already did The life you choose to emulate, that's the life I live Dream house, dream car, quarter past that That money that you makin, was my champagne tab Dawg, that's yo' girl? Be cool, relax I just need her tonight, call the phone, you can get her back You gon' ball then ball, you gon' mack then mack Your mouth sayin one thang, but your action don't say that You told me all aboutcha, and I ain't even asked Look at ya, nervous, jittery, can't stare me in the eyes can ya? Real recognize real, you can't deceive a gangster Short Dawg, Petey Pab', what was y'all thankin? [Chorus] [Too $hort:] I know you wanna live the good life New car, new house, what it look like? You'll never see it, tryin to be somethin that you're not You runnin to the car cause you don't wanna get shot But at the bar you was hard Ain't even no straps in your car, you better call the law They got guns, you got a cell phone Do some gangster shit, and get the hell on ... You talked all that shit But a bunch of ass-whuppins, that's all y'all get Actin tough in the club You found out you was fuckin with some thugs; put them hands on ya So fast you ain't know what happened Outside seen 'em ridin in a fo' do' cabin Tryin to kill you, this shit is real fool You won't survive in the streets if you don't know the rules [Chorus] [Dolla Will:] Uhh; Black Continental, suicide golds Gators hit the flo', I ain't payin at the do' While you fly outside, waitin for the guest list And to get frisked, it's niggaz like me creepin with heat That'll burn ya crisp I'm at some work, you would open your mouth to kiss Why you at the bar, roused off Cris' No longer courageless, grabbin hoes by the wrist Chose one, mix wasn't hit, so you wet her clothes And said BITCH - put it on thick, like Lonzo in "Training Day" Not knowin she with a clique, that's aimin at your face Soon as they get word, hope your friends don't desert And valet got your Benz parked next to the curb You ain't a gangster, L7 Quick to bail out, like a nigga in jail stressin A lesson to be learnt, bout what a gangster is Not only do we roll deep, so do a gangsteress. [Chorus] |
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