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Fes Taylor
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Pop Off
[Fes Taylor] Y'all been hating for a long time, and I ain't said shit yet What I gotta do to get respect Pull out pistol on people, brought burners to battles Rather resort to violence, then spit words, then at you So if we go head up, I punch first, jab and hook My pen's the fire, to any pad or book Pieces of paper, turning to flame, return of the game Make acid fall from the sky, burn when it rain Murder you slang, Taylor'll bang like Hussein A Wolf with two fangs, manuever with gangs New York slang salesman, heat put a tan on your pale skin You dumb fucks, like Launchpad from TailSpin Cops stay corrupt, play parts like Anthony Quinn Fuck your man up, now tell me who the champion then I play blocks like a stop sign, see me on every corner Glock nine, I pop mine, bury the informer
[Chorus 2X: Fes Taylor] Everybody got a gun, but how many is really popping off Everybody running in buildings, when villains popping off It ain't safe for women and children, when it's popping off Be a man, stop the talk and start popping off
[Fes Taylor] Hunger pains got my stomach touching my back In my younger days, I was pumping crack, clutching my gat I'm older now, so they expect me to hold it down Go to war with police that patrol my town Staten Isle, I'm straight from the livest borough Disagree, oh yeah, you can die in your borough You lie in a puddle, I fly in your shuttle, BMW Z4, the law make you cry and you crumble Gangstas humble, Wolf Pack's anxious to rumble Warriorz'll jump you in the jungle, you hating, fuck you Middle finger to the sky, this year we getting bigger pieces of the pie Tell my Visa, goodbye I coughed alot, you leasing a 5, you fought from the top Reach for the sky, hard on the block, you seak in disguise Push the record buttong on your cassette decks Made songs in the crib, with a mic and a handset
[Chorus 2X]
[Fes Taylor] Yo, capital L, capital G, if I die or retire You rappers'll be happy something happen to me Nobody can't eat no more, til my belly full Purple haze blunts, make me choke after every pull No machete pull, got guns under heavy wool Wintertime, jet ski's on the back, while the Chevy pull Tahoe with Joey's finest, I'm Shaolin's grimiest America's most wanted, you'll probably find me with Product of Park Hill, NARC's tried to stick me with marked bills So they can ship me, the art to kill, but I move too swift, grown ass man with a two fifth Playing with a child's gun, claiming you ruthless This is true shit, Deck, what's good, my nigga? This is 'The Movement', fuck you with a pool stick Like Gano D, 'In Too Deep', I've been through beef Make the block hot, son, like central heat
[Chorus 2X]
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