- Votes:
- Composers:
- Steve Kennedy
- Kenneth Marco
- Todd Anthony Shaw
- Wayne Stone
 
- Tags:
- bay beats
- old skool
 
- See also:
Too $hort - Short Dog's in The House lyrics
Moving up, East Oakland, yeah, that's right
 Moving up, East Oakland, yeah, that's right
 Moving up, East Oakland, yeah, that's right
 Moving up, East Oakland, yeah, that's right
 Oakland, California, West Coast life
 You either play the game or you smoke the pipe
 I became a rapper at the age fourteen
 No gold ropes, no diamond rings
 But look at me now, ten years later
 Ask any MC if I rap greater
 See I'm known in Fresno, even the big O
 From San Diego to Sacramento
 They'll tell you yes, wherever you go
 And I bet my life won't one say no
 Ain't nothing like a Too $hort fan
 I ain't tripping, you can play it again
 Don't fight the feeling, life is me
 I rock shows in Nashville, Tennessee
 It wasn't "Hee Haw," so don't laugh
 At the good ol' boys getting autographs
 In Cincinnati, I know you heard
 I got fined for the cuss words
 It's true, baby, so so unique
 Might slap your man or just thump your freak
 I come to your town, I'm not under
 I want your name and your telephone number
 You think I'm faking, but I'll call
 We only got one night to do it all
 I know baby it's such a pity
 Tomorrow night, we hit another city
 Cold macking in the game is all we do
 Me and the boys called "The Dangerous Crew"
 I used to be local till I signed with Jive
 Too $hort then went nationwide
 I went to Georgia with the Too $hort sound
 I went down like Bobby Brown
 I said a rap and they took me to jail
 Pulled out my bank and made bail
 This is my story, it could not wait
 It all started out in the Golden State
 California, where I was born and raised
 I used to play the drum in my younger days
 I just hit that beat any way I can
 Smooth high-stepping in the marching band
 I turned in my drum and I started to rap
 Now beats I make, make my bank so fat
 It's Too $hort, on the mic tonight
 Pennsylvania, can you see the light?
 From Chicago, to Indiana
 From Mississippi, to Alabama
 Louisiana, even Texas
 Females, call me sexist
 But don't they love it, you know me
 Freak nasty in a room trying to blow me
 Like engine, engine, number nine
 Homies run a train, standing in line
 Too $hort - Short Dog's in The House - http://motolyrics.com/too-short/short-dogs-in-the-house-lyrics.html
 If that train jumps off the track
 Then my brother you will catch the clap
 From Colorado, to Arizona
 All the way back home to California
 In Chattanooga, they know the tip
 Short Dog in the house, I'm that flip
 Getting clip, or playing pool
 I can't help it I'm so damn cool
 Call me 'Dog' or leave me alone
 I'm riding in a Cadillac Fleetwood Chrome
 With Too Clean, behind the wheel
 I'm riding shotgun, rapping for real
 Total boss in the back, give me supersede
 They like to roll 'em fat cause you know we ride
 To the beat y'all, and it don't stop
 It goes on cause I don't stop rapping
 Now you know, nothing but the Dog in me
 You make love to me and I still act stingy
 Oh should I pay you? You must be tripping
 I didn't buy you and I sure ain't renting
 I said "I love you" 'cause you gave me head
 I didn't love you when we got out the bed
 If I could love you, you know I would
 But what you giving, ain't all that good
 A little southern hospitality
 You'd better try to get away from me
 I love money, and I just can't fake it
 I go to Magic City and the girls dance naked
 I'm somewhat of a hero by the way I rap
 But I'm living like an Oak town mack
 I'm in the house y'all, I'm like peeser, y'all
 Rat heads get nothing but cheese, y'all
 Or get slapped, put up your dukes
 I kick you in your ass with my Nike boots
 Some rappers try to be just like Too $hort
 Can hang with the Dog, you'd better stay on the porch
 In Minnesota, Virginia Beach
 Wisconsin, I got freaks
 Atlanta, Little Rock
 Louisville, it don't stop
 Kansas City, Missouri
 I rock the house in East St. Louis
 Detroit, it's like Oakland
 It's a black thing, and I'm a black man
 To all my brothers in the U.S.A.
 Too $hort baby don't even play
 Woofers in the trunk, blasting the beat
 I cross the bridge and hit third street
 Years ago, I rocked that joint
 I say what's up to my homies from Hunter's Point
 We go a long way back, it's always been like that
 In the days that Short Dog was so young at the rap
 I'm in the house
 Moving up, East Oakland, yeah, that's right
 Moving up, East Oakland, yeah, that's right
 Moving up, East Oakland, yeah, that's right
 Moving up, East Oakland, yeah, that's right
















