| Ay yo, welcome to the world of S-H-O-R-T
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| Texas where them trill ass niggas be livin naughty
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| Rollin' up ho’s like turtles in half a shell
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| Open up my trunk and let’s see what I have to sell
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| I got the dope, if you ho’s got the paper
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| And if you a faker then you’ll meet your fuckin maker
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| Cause I ain’t takin no shit on my guts
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| The UGK posse got the big big nuts
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| Yo, so who’s a bold bitch?
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| Try to make a sale, You betta bail before they find you in a ditch
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| This dope ain’t yo dope and these cuts and yo cuts
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| Yo, but this is my 12 Gauge in your muthafuckin guts
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| Don’t make me pump this bitch and unload
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| Beat your feet muthafucka, hit the muthafuckin road
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| And don’t even try to come back nigga yo
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| Cause me Dre and C got fingers on a fat trigger
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| We making too much money moving weight
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| And before you hit my cuts, you better get your shit straight
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| Cause it ain’t safe to just try and show your ass up
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| Street sweeper booming cold blow your ass up
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| And ain’t nobody scared to blast
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| We pull them triggers fast
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| And then we bailing on your bitch ass
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| But if your shit is legit, then you can join my crew
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| U.S.T. |
| graduating class of '92 in Short Texas
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| Niggas on the track dropping shit about T-X
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| As long as there’s fiends that’s them tax free dope checks
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| Young muthafuckas at the age of 16
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| Cooking up some yayo for the local drug king
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| The market’s not open so they call it closed circuit
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| Short Short Texas watch them hard thugs work it
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| 5−0's on the scene make the all time drug bust
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| Out next week slangin some more white dust
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| Real, oh so trill, the life’s no glamour
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| At the end of my time is spent in the slammer
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| Fuckin up shit with the 9 inch chrome
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| So all you scary got-it-good young-ass bitches stay home
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| And if you get picked up by the laws
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| Don’t cry cause it’s for a lost cause
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| Clientele, ounce of yayo, in jail make bail
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| From longs to short, it’s constant dope sales
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| Stupid muthafuckas smoking dummies and noids in jail
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| On U.S.T., Crack University
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| Home of the Fightin Fiends, the streets reimburse me
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| Cops finding my stash, yo what could the worst be
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| Through so going undercover then turnin dirty
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| Bitch, I’m dead and swole in a ditch
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| Just the other day, a fiend in your Lexus
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| Calling my name Blue Light, I’m Short Texas
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| I don’t give a fuck who you be!
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| You ain’t bout to sell no fuckin dope in P.A.T
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| You could be Tony Montana in this bitch
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| Have a boat load of dope, but you still ain’t selling shit
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| Cause we don’t know your face so I don’t really figure
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| We gon let you come up and sell dope in Texas nigga
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| See you don’t understand, it’s our muthafuckin cuts
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| So step in, like I said before, we’ll take them muthafuckin nuts
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| Ask the last nigga brought his fuckin ass down
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| Trying to sell that fuckin dope he bought in H-Town
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| Couldn’t sell in Houston, so I guess he figured
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| I’mma go to Port Arthur and run them fuckin niggas
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| Brought his fuckin gun, guess he should’ve bust
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| So they took his shit and put his dick in the dust
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| Stupid ass nigga had the nerve to come back
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| Rolling on the cuts in his white Cadillac
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| Got to the block and the guns just exploded
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| Shot his car up with the 9, and the clip that he unloaded
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| Sent the nigga home to his momma like a ho
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| They jacked all his money and they stole all his dope
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| Can’t be trill in the villa of the trillest
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| Cause where I’m from nigga house some muthafuckin killers
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| So have your shit attached, before you come check us
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| Pimp C, bitch, P.A. |
| home, Short Texas |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Short Texas (feat. UGK) , by - DJ Screw. Song from the album Bigtyme Recordz '95 - '99, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп