Correction Lyrics Out of Range by Too $hort

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Lyrics

I'm out of range, b*t*h, so don't page me
(Nothing but love for the money)
Get this, get this money on, don't phase me
(Nothing can come between us)
Get, get this money, get, get this money on
I'm out of range, b*t*h, so don't page me
Miss me with the jealousy, it don't phase me
(Nothing but love for the, nothing but love for the money)
Get, get, get, get this money on, get, get this money on

I'm with this Oakland n***as in the house, that's how wе roll
Got nothin' but love for the Valley Jo
Thirty cars on thе freeway, speedin' to a rap show
We off the heezy, somebody slapped the ho
She came back with some thugs who found out
Put the O with the V, we gon' tear up downtown
Tryna take up for that ho, now you layin' on the flo'
Asking what for - n***a, you ain't know?
We was 200 deep headed back to the Bay
Independent record companies way back in the day
Selling tapes out the trunk, nothing but the funk
How you gon' be in this game and be a punk?
You could grow, f**kin' with these cutthroats
Can't get a dime for the rhymes you wrote
Complain about your lifestyle, hate me for mine
Beggin' with a sign, you want food for your rhymes

Dre, Mall and $hort comin' off Cochran, F. Lee, and Shapiro
Comin' off them beats made with that MPC 2-triple zero
Flammy, flossy, costly to f**k with man like me
My Thizz savage with cabbage is all I wanna see
Bay boy, playboy, young Mac Dre, boy
Two strikes ain't nothin' nice when they goin' for that K, boy
But I ain't trippin', never slippin', sippin' Privilege
Excessive Rompage, excessive diggage
I want bomb head that make me curl my toes
So I can kick on back and say, "Thar she blows"
I want to see if this b*t*h want to be
On this ball team, hard dreams is super faulty
Might be your cousin or husband, but don't salt me
Super saucy like Ragu and Prego
From New York to Miami, Frisco and Dego, uh

I'm out of range, b*t*h, so don't page me
Miss me with the jealousy, it don't phase me
You knew what time it was when you joined my team
So let's get this money on and don't spoil my dream
I studied day and night, memorizing the game
I'm not a hypocrite on the mic lying for fame
I'm $hort Dog, I'm known for breakin' b*t*hes off
Hit the weed and cough, pass it to Mac Mall

I'm making suckers have jealous thoughts
b*t*hes blowin' up like Molotov c*cktails
Like dough, c*ck sell
Never fails, hookers jock the game
Sharp enough to make her shake the leg
Trick, what you got on these gold thangs?
Me, I'm a soldier out for world domination
Mac of all trades, move dope like Reagan
Roper hittin' me like Conan, we bows down for no man
Snake b*t*hes keep the funk goin'
But anyway, this Hennessy is lightin' me up
Thug n***as in the party never givin' a f**k
Spittin' game and it's drivin' 'em nuts
The one that's yet to be touched
Me and my 5-35, we monster dunk
Cold Crest Creeper last seen in the V
But you could spot him anywhere from Watts to NYC
With a chassis thicker than Bay fog
MD and $hort Dog, and me, my name is Mackin' ass Mall

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