Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song No Love From Oakland, artist - Too Short. Date of issue: 13.07.1992
Song language: English
No Love From Oakland |
| Ain’t no love in Oakland, bitch |
| Niggas always talkin bout 'I love you' |
| But ain’t no love, bitch |
| Now it’s a shame, I can’t be saved by John the Pope |
| I gotta be a pimp or sellin dope |
| Cause in this town, it’s goin on |
| And brothers doin that can’t live too long |
| So what’s my option, do it or not |
| Break a ho, sell a ki, just don’t get caught |
| Cause if I do, I’m goin to jail |
| On a one-way ticket to a prison cell |
| So why commit the crime? |
| Don’t ask me |
| Went to school everyday, and I still can’t read |
| I count money like a champ, now ask me |
| Why everyday does the task force jack me |
| The story’s been told one million times |
| About a boy growin up to a life of crime |
| I heard it before, you heard it too |
| But now, homeboy, it’s just me and you |
| You see, people try to call us filthy trash |
| Even though we live better and make mo' cash |
| Than they do, I’m not a no-good thug |
| Standin on the corner sellin drugs |
| And just remember, this ain’t multiple choice |
| Without a college degree you only got your voice |
| You gotta talk for yours, or get nothin at all |
| This ain’t the NBA, I ain’t havin a ball |
| Every day is a trip, but I ain’t trippin |
| Watch my back and don’t start slippin |
| Money won’t talk, but it looks right back |
| Everytime I dip into my stack |
| I’m buyin cars, jewelries, and mobile phones |
| Things I couldn’t get with a high school diploma |
| It’s alright, cause I just help myself |
| You should know, cause I can’t do nothin else |
| And you better watch out for the day |
| When you lock me up and throw that key away |
| Cause I’ll be back on parole |
| Ain’t changed nothing, cause I’m ready to roll |
| I go to school now, but just to front |
| Still servin dopefiends what they want |
| Count 5 to 10, 10 to 20 |
| And I just keep on makin money |
| I hope you don’t think my story’s amazin |
| I tell it to a kid in the ghetto, it won’t faze him |
| So many blackmen die for drugs |
| I think back on the way life was |
| Before rock cocaine started runnin thangs |
| And drive-by shootings was a normal thang |
| Before brothers bought Benzes, used to drive Mustangs |
| 12 years later, and I’m still in the game |
| All my life all I wanted was a few hoes |
| If I was pimpin or slingin at the liquor sto' |
| Ain’t nothin but street life, fuck that school |
| All the squares up there ain’t even cool |
| Plus my partners at the house sell coke all day |
| Hit the mall like players, spendin fat-ass bank |
| Junior high wasn’t shit but a place to fight |
| Muthafuckas wasn’t learnin how to read and write |
| I’m just walkin down the street all alone |
| High as hell, my mind is gone |
| I’m thinkin bout some brand-new shit and I’m broke |
| I know I be a fiend if I smoke that coke |
| But if I go back to school and get educated |
| Be a old-ass man before I graduated |
| So what should I do, I can’t even cope |
| I guess I’ll get a sack and start slingin dope |
| I went to my homie, said, «Give me the sack» |
| He disappeared quick, and he came right back |
| He said, «You owe me a g, I give you a week |
| You fuck up my money, don’t cop no plead |
| Cause in the Oak ain’t no love, $hort» |
| I knew right then I couldn’t sell that coke |
| When I was young, it was hard to tell |
| If I grow up and be rich as hell |
| See, I was cool I knew all the shit |
| Big bank on my finger tips |
| But I never had a big bank, not back then |
| I kicked back and watched all my friends |
| Make big money, right in my face |
| And if you ever crossed them, they be on your case |
| You go under, six feet underground |
| You gets no love from the Oaktown |
| I drive my top everyday like a movie star |
| Drive around all night in old towed up cars |
| And if you stop me, ain’t no tellin what you find in my trunk |
| Gotta live like this, cause I ain’t no punk |
| So break down the dank and roll up that shit |
| Light the muthafucka, take a fat-ass hit |
| My fingers all sticky from the residue |
| Don’t fuck with me, I won’t fuck with you |
| Cause life is only give and take |
| In the town where the strong control the fake |
| The wild wild west, that’s the place |
| Suckers take a bite, and don’t even taste |
| The California lifestyle that I live |
| Mack these hoes every chance I get |
| Like a drop SL, three times black |
| I’m a pimp, a player and I been known to mack |
| I’m a muthafucka, I broke your heart |
| She gave it all to me, and I tore it apart |
| Talked about love right to the end |
| But I broke your heart and, bitch, I do it again |
| So young and tender, also fine |
| Tryin to get Short Dog all the time |
| I take what I want, you can keep the rest |
| You gets no love from East Oakland, bitch |
| That’s the place I call home |
| Where the Oakland City players roam |
| Game don’t stop, listen to me |
| Everybody fuckin with the O.P.D |
| Slingin cocaine, knockin it off |
| Killed some nigga, and he never got caught |
| High-speed chases everyday |
| Can’t make no money no other way |
| A bitch yelled «raid!», that ain’t true |
| Cause you laid down, and she fucked you |
| Two days ago I didn’t know she existed |
| But now baby is just one of my bitches |
| I don’t care what you say |
| Cause I catch bitches and straight get pay |
| You don’t care what I’m sayin |
| Punk-ass square ain’t got no game |
| Hoes love me, cause I’m a player |
| They think maybe I just might fuck em later |
| I keep mackin though, I don’t work for free |
| To be a true ho you gotta pay me |
| I spend endless days and endless nights |
| Plottin this shit to keep my money right |
| I build stages in my mind, and it’s all an act |
| All I’m tryin to do is keep my pockets fat |
| With this pimp game, and these funky beats |
| Now here’s a little story from the Oakland streets |
| You see, Tania had a boyfriend, his name was Jack |
| Always had the bitches on their backs |
| Jack told Tania, «I love you so» |
| But Jack’s a mack, he’s got several hoes |
| One day she beeped him to say what’s up |
| He didn’t call back, cause she was only out to fuck |
| She beeped Mike, cause she got mad |
| She knew about the bitches her boyfriend had |
| Mike called back, and he was on his way |
| He just got the pussy yesterday |
| You see, Mike ain’t trippin on his girlfriend |
| Fine little bitch, I think her name is Lynn |
| Mike paid the bills always in cash |
| And if she ever got raw, he just beat that ass |
| It goes on y’all, so don’t even trip |
| You gets no love from East Oakland, bitch |
| Got sprung, even though it’s not legal |
| A young black man livin like rich people |
| I got this game from a hard-ass place |
| It’s on the map, right there in your face |
| I see my people, all filled with joy |
| Next day they’re killin homeboys |
| Can’t say shit if you sho' can’t shoot |
| Cause muthafuckas will smoke them boots |
| You gets no love from Oakland, bitch |
| You better try to make me rich |