Fes Taylor - Record Deal Lyrics
f/ Lon Dini, Pa Bazil[Intro: Lon Dini]Yeah... Still here, boy (we here)Millimen, Lon Dini, LiberachiL.G., L.I., Baby PaS.T., inside a hole you still here, niggaYeah... let's do it... rock!Rock's good, nigga, ***** off!Yeah... Huh? Huh? Huh?[Lon Dini]Yo you know who 'bout to go in again (yeah Dini)I kick down ya door, big guns glued ya ass thenYo the judge tryin' to kill my summer fun (Mayer's)Yeah his ass still run in the streets boy, get my summer ones*****es love me like a fresh pair, poetry spit clearNever seen me before but coward, I been here***** ridin' the beat, boy I hoverThe way my mind travel I could probably cover 3/4ths ya suckerIn a day, put all rappers on, I sauteeYou could never sound like this, even if you copied***** around, go down, slit the chin of four chopper (Mayday, mayday!)Hotter than four skillets on the stoveI remain calm, reveal big toast and stay in closeAin't no gang when I write it, incite cuz L.I. holds (what up nigga?)Dollars, Dodge black ImpalasDart killa, I make clowns disappear for the skrillaSkanks I ***** 'em, guns I buck 'emYou could look through the hip-hop list, nobody that could touch him[Fes Taylor]Our pain is real, walk the block with the stainless steelI ain't never had a deal but I'm famous still (uh-huh)No budget but my chain is illJesus piece came from crills, ask 'bout my name in the HillFans wonder why we ain't been signedWe done put five different projects out, they hate on our grind (hater)Labels'll pay you niggaz not to ***** with youCuz I'm a hood nigga in love with the streets, I guess I'm stuck with you (***** 'em)And black ball, I ain't never been blue balled (uh-huh)Cuz I could sing a chick out her drawers like Lou Rawls (Lou Rawls)You pause, I fast-forward my lifeFans rewind what I write, the be bringin' it backI ain't tryin' to be the King of the Stat' (uh-huh)Still my son is a PrinceYou know me, gloves, gun with no prints (no prints)Since I've been here, put niggaz in wheelchairsStill give back to the hood like welfare (yeah, yeah)Alright, yeah, yeah, yeah...[Pa Bazil]Who in the hell left the gate open?Take notice how I've been able to remain focusedThe Beethoven back in '95 was straight smokin'Ain't nothin' changed but the caliber of things I'm holdin'Aim steady, they ain't ready to buccaneerBareback like ya air attack, yeah the culprits hereRemember back in the days, we sold sofas hereNow we lookin' like we was all put inside Oprah's wheelThese Milli Misses really gettin' what we say we doAsk around, yeah we backed 'em down everyday, it's trueBut nowadays we gettin' money cuz we cater toWidespreads of fans across the lands that are paid a fewOpie Oner, the roadrunner, the flow thunderFour gunners is killin' it all summerAs far as the winter, we puttin' 'em on icePut SOHO on an arm, he wit a nigga for lifeListen...All our life all we wanted was a record dealLabels give us a shotI bet I'll sell a milLadies, we get 'em thoughLook at our pictures thoughSo many different showsSo many different hoes
