Intro:
|
|
Still strugglin, still hustlin, tryin to get my money on
|
Fresh outta retirement, you know I ain't tryin to fall off,
|
Too $hort records, we ain't tryin to fall off
|
We ain't goin nowhere, I'm tryin to see everybody make money
|
I wanna see everybody get paid, everybody
|
|
Chorus:
|
|
Another day, another dollar spent
|
And I'm still out here strugglin
|
Caught in the game, and I'm just hustlin
|
Don't even trust my closest friends
|
|
Verse One:
|
|
Don't ever say you can't do it, it's not that hard
|
You wanna be a lawyer, you wanna be a star
|
You can do anything you wanna do
|
Forget what they say, as long as you believe in you
|
Keep chasing your dreams, wherever they take you
|
You gotta hustle, which shouldn't have to make you
|
Get your money on, like I always said
|
It's playin like a old song in your head
|
You say it ain't cool in the hood
|
I know some folks in the ghetto livin good
|
Now tell me how you get there, tell the next man, too
|
You ain't got it, give him yours, cause he got less than you
|
Give him game, and that's all he need
|
The knowledge, to plant that seed
|
And make it grow, get the dough
|
Even though I make money, I'm trying to get some more
|
You gotta be the best at what you do, and even though you ain't
|
That's just how you need to think
|
Don't tell me no, I already made up my mind
|
It's going down my way this time
|
I'm so deep into this
|
It's like I'm in some pussy, fucking my bitch
|
I've been going platinum, you walk by
|
you player-hate, don't even try
|
|
Chorus
|
|
Verse Two:
|
|
Don't ever quit, once you get started
|
It's on til the end, til you're dearly departed
|
You know you can't quit, too much time invested
|
You learned your lesson, no time for stressing
|
Looking in the mirror, trying to act hard
|
Walking down the street, thinking bout a car
|
I been there a million times
|
I'm like baby, Dee, I got a million rhymes
|
I been a famous MC since 1983
|
When Run-DMC was singing sucka MC's
|
Niggaz in the papers ride Too $hort
|
Rolling brand-new Vogues, smoking Newports
|
$hort studios, in my room making tapes
|
When I moved up to Oakland from L.A.
|
I was a square, I ain't gotta lie to you
|
I wasn't rapping, I was fresh outta private school
|
Now I'm old school, Too $hort, fuck what ya heard
|
There ain't no way I could memorize all these words
|
I been rapping for years, spitting game
|
Twenty years from now, you could say the same thing
|
If you determined, look at me
|
I'm getting on the car, used to roll two feet
|
Back in the day, selling dope fiend
|
Based on SunnySide, up Ninety-Sixth to Birch Street
|
|
Chorus
|
|
Verse Three:
|
|
Don't ever say it's old, I know you wanna go gold
|
Trying to be like me is getting old
|
It's been proven, there's only one Too $hort
|
Most Valuable Player, you know the sport
|
It's time to be you, cause being me comes natural to me
|
I hope you make it in the industry
|
You could work on Wall Street, or be a doctor in a hospital
|
As long as you're happy, I know you got a little
|
Stash, stack your cash
|
And keep hustling, cause it ain't gone last
|
How many times you seen a broke nigga, wanting to be a dope dealer
|
Make some money, and turn into a cold killer
|
Alot of people came up like that
|
But alot of y'all faking that ya hold that gat
|
Now your little ass is out
|
You finally realized, you took the wrong route
|
You got alot of talent, don't let it go to waste
|
Handcuffed on the ground, with dirt in ya face
|
I know the trap, circumstances make ya sell crack
|
Shackles and Chains, take us all back
|
To slavery, back when the days would be
|
Long and hot, with nobody paying me
|
These days we have opportunities
|
To blow up and give back to our communities
|
|
Chorus
|
|
-----------------
|
Still Strugglin'
|
Too Short |