Fes Taylor - Warriors Pt. 2 Lyrics
[Fes Taylor]Two 4, Two 4-ty Warriorz up in this *****Screaming the warrior, the kid snitch, plus never get shitMy brother rock, waiting to pop offWolves that'll eat you with hot sauce, he sit with the cops offPoint out pictures and got bossSent up the river, now he fronting like Secaucus popped onPop corn rappers and pop sauceSound like I could do a better job, son, putting my pops onI bang out with niggas that was known in the streetSo I don't fear a rapper on the microphone, when he speakAnd hope a nigga home when I creep, nigga talk shitShoot him in the mouth, have him holding his beakTwo 4 War, is holding the streets, shake up the industry, sonWe rock the puss like when soda releasedWhile diamonds in the rough play tough, the champ is hereDare you to say something back, I trample your careerYo, I'm tired of niggas biting my shit, just let me write it for youNigga I'm so hot, my darts like lighter fluidYou might of blew it though, facing the kidWe can do it on Kayslay, you afraid I'mma winI put, five grand, me and any rapper that's outGuaranteed, I shut 'em down, what the yapping aboutI have twenty Park Hill niggas, crashing his houseFace scraping the concrete, draggin 'em outListen, I ride low in a hooptie, til Gil came through in a porscheAnd scooped me, so I'm doing mePlus I'm still nice with the two-piece, but it's likeShots go off, when I write on the loose leafAnd I take it like you murdered my friends, uh-huhSo at shows we throwing chairs like, Bang 'Em Smurf and 'emCoward, you running with punks, you ain't bout itMy niggas live, everyone of them dump, *****Yeah, Two 4-ty Warriorz, alright, okWhy I'm so angry? These faggot niggas try to bang meOn Harrison Ave., I'm blasting a magYo, the judge offered 25, I still didn't breakAll these niggas acting like they real, really they fakeYou niggas is hoes, you fronting on the video showsSix shut you up, have your body sinking belowSo, ***** a *****, I'm just try'nna ***** a *****Got a couple chicks suck a dick til the nutter split then your throat slitTaylor wrote this, same way I'm on them postersGun and hostlers, send slugs with no postageSmomke a roach clip when I'm stressed, approach a clickWith the vest, and the Smith and Wess', lifting your dressYou ***** ass niggas, I'm like, Billy the Kid in the westWe the cash niggas, confess the Milli kids is the bestWe the mud kids, look what a slug did, we crooked, we done bizI triple, we run this, you pump *****I pump with niggas who pump in itWith the shotgun, dumping your whip, I'm crushing the stripPeace to my young wolves, somebody die, if a gun pullUnder the full moon, aim at your stoveIn a hooptie down low, and I painted it thoughLights go out, after I flame at your broAnd I'm still in the projects, beefing with policeIt's no peace, cops beat case like CocheeseYeah the original mutha*****in' WarriorzBefore M.O.P., before G-Unit, we was the four buildingGetting this paper mutha*****a...
