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From : shaaaolinkid
Added: Apr 29, 2009
Cop that new Fes Taylor album Flight 10304 (T-2 Fly) ! Produced by G-Clef da Mad Komposa [Lyrics:] [Intro: Fes Taylor, (G-Clef Da Mad Komposa)] Yeah, Chambermusik, Two 4 War Entertainment, Taylor, Yo Clef what it is baby, (It's nothing man) Uh huh. (Just let these fools know what time it is with you man) [Fes Taylor] They say Taylor falling off, Well it's a long drop from the top, Hard enough to make the concrete crack if I flop, And I still got crack on the block, So my income, It come like I'm cashing a lot, A fetish for jewelry your passion is shot, Still, I threaten the jury, Blasting the glock, See times passing on the clock, I'm tryna take the batteries out, A G until the coroners carry me out, A salary ouch, Hurt a broke nigga's feeling, We aint got college degrees, So my niggas dealing, Four wheel'n the drop, You see the ceiling, This nigga squealing, So we concealing, Only revealing when it comes to dealing with drama, That's nine llamas to your baby Momma, Shouts to Big Gill, Every dollar he invest, Some niggas talk about, Clef write it on the check. [Chorus 2X: Fes Taylor] I'm a piano gangsta, I'm just playing with these keys, So much ice on they saying I'm a freeze, Like it's cold outside, Below zero degrees, Growing up, Niggas on corners they was heroes to me. [Fes Taylor] Ayo, I'm too cool to be a fool, Too fly to even do, Any type of sucker shit, Just look how my hustle groove, I seen a couple crews crumble through the struggle too, Yeah I had to struggle too, Just to get comfortable, Nah that aint enough for you, Hip Hop still got love for you, Tryna get something new for the summer group, I play the corner guzzle'n brews, Honies with hair do's, That stop stare and smile at my dudes, Since days one-four-two break bread, I'm the state champ, World wide, Can enter passport, Aint scared, Now it's back to Park Hill, I'm Shaolin's finest, So now when they speak to me it's pardon me your highness, Inside of me feel like a part of me is dying, Cause I just got word that my Grandfather dying, So I'm still in the studio writing these hits, While niggas in the business still biting my shit. [Chorus] [Fes Taylor] Might see me with Yung Budd, Hoes say I'm a young stud, Most niggas yelling one blood, I'm yelling one dove, It takes one slug to put you under the rug, Under a house, Picture a corpse covered with bugs, Cause you snitching, Caught, Crib covered with bugs, Not roaches, Speaking CD's think I'm talking bout drugs, On the phones I aint talking bout much, If you hear me saying that we eating listen I aint talking bout lunch, Crunch n' Munch breaks the Fruity Pebble chain, Ruby red rains, Kind of like a booty of a dame, Wow, I raise my brow up like The Rock, Still down for a flip I get it twenty a whop, I sell it thirty a pop, But if I bag it, I can make sixty thousand at times, That's a lot. I guess I'm just a chip off the old block, You know first my Grand Pop's did it, Then my Pop's, Now it's my turn. [Chorus 4X]
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