Fes Taylor - Holding Weight Lyrics
[Fes Taylor]Aiyo, who you know fresher than Fes?I don't fight, you could wrestle the techPlus I bling like the bezel begetsOn the streets, an incredible repCuz beef only settle in deathI point the metal at refsThe game is crazySay that this money'll change meHate on me than ask, "Can you spare some change?"I was broke, you wasn't feelin' my pain'98, I was willin' to rage from dealin' them 'caineSnitch niggaz squealin' my nameSo the hammer I concealed 'til it bangBlind haters when I'm wearin' my chainWolf Pack dubs, I rarely'll clangFans check for me, so the streets feel me in claimIn every magazine, fillin' up the Phillie with hazeI'm like, Billy the Kid, the Milli'll blazeNowadays, they know me as a Willie, I'm paidMiami Beach, they tried to deal me some shadeI'm only visitin'...[Chorus 2X: Fes Taylor]We out here eatin', get ya weight up homeyGrams to kilos, demand the receipt though, whoaWe out here eatin', get ya weight up homeyOunces to pounds, bounce through the town, now[Fes Taylor]I grind all night, grind all dayRoll up a blunt, this is ya mind on hazeI meant to say this is ya brain on drugsWit ya brain on slugs, I ain't high enough to leave behind the OJ glovesMask on, they don't know who he wasThis is crook music, why the party gears to pull a juks to itYou could lean with it, rather do the push to itWalkin' through the club, bump a nigga like, get stupidTroop it to hell, then back to the blockYou play me, you stupid as hell, the ratchet'll popDig pockets then I'm snatchin' ya gwopHit the mall up, spend ya re-up not on fashion I rockI'm the greatest, my latest LP, Taylor Made itCan't fade it, if they had the hands of my barber with razorsWhat's that? Star Trek phazers?They playin' with real guns, not Toys R Us kids with cap gunsSlap son, yappin' his gumsTalkin' shit like, I ain't from the slumsKillah Hill where I come from[Chorus][Fes Taylor]Yo, I'm really livin' thisI've put in work since '92, grind too, since Milli was militantGrind from the ignoranceFans wonder why, I ain't been signed, bottom line, every album I'm killin' itI guess they feelin' itKinda like Jay's song, hip hop, I don't never wanna leave like Trey SongzMy cake long, beef with Fes, leave with a brace onYou a *****-ass nigga, son, you probably wear lace thongsCrossdresser, drag queen, lookin' like RuPaulBehind the scenes, he a fag, I tell 'em the truth y'allHoes love me, wanna ***** me, tell her we only buddiesDeath threats, two broads'll suck me, know me as CuttyI'm big pimpin', still think different than most playersThe toast sprayer, ***** Bloomberg, I choke mayorsMy gross pay'll make an NBA salaryLook like grams of fat, compared to calories, nigga[Chorus 2X]
