[Fes Taylor] Aiyo, who you know fresher than Fes? I don't fight, you could wrestle the tech Plus I bling like the bezel begets On the streets, an incredible rep Cuz beef only settle in death I point the metal at refs The game is crazy Say that this money'll change me Hate 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 'caine Snitch niggaz squealin' my name So the hammer I concealed 'til it bang Blind haters when I'm wearin' my chain Wolf Pack dubs, I rarely'll clang Fans check for me, so the streets feel me in claim In every magazine, fillin' up the Phillie with haze I'm like, Billy the Kid, the Milli'll blaze Nowadays, they know me as a Willie, I'm paid Miami Beach, they tried to deal me some shade I'm only visitin'...
[Chorus 2X: Fes Taylor] We out here eatin', get ya weight up homey Grams to kilos, demand the receipt though, whoa We out here eatin', get ya weight up homey Ounces to pounds, bounce through the town, now
[Fes Taylor] I grind all night, grind all day Roll up a blunt, this is ya mind on haze I meant to say this is ya brain on drugs Wit ya brain on slugs, I ain't high enough to leave behind the OJ gloves Mask on, they don't know who he was This is crook music, why the party gears to pull a juks to it You could lean with it, rather do the push to it Walkin' through the club, bump a nigga like, get stupid Troop it to hell, then back to the block You play me, you stupid as hell, the ratchet'll pop Dig pockets then I'm snatchin' ya gwop Hit the mall up, spend ya re-up not on fashion I rock I'm the greatest, my latest LP, Taylor Made it Can't fade it, if they had the hands of my barber with razors What's that? Star Trek phazers? They playin' with real guns, not Toys R Us kids with cap guns Slap son, yappin' his gums Talkin' shit like, I ain't from the slums Killah Hill where I come from
[Chorus]
[Fes Taylor] Yo, I'm really livin' this I've put in work since '92, grind too, since Milli was militant Grind from the ignorance Fans wonder why, I ain't been signed, bottom line, every album I'm killin' it I guess they feelin' it Kinda like Jay's song, hip hop, I don't never wanna leave like Trey Songz My cake long, beef with Fes, leave with a brace on You a bitch-ass nigga, son, you probably wear lace thongs Crossdresser, drag queen, lookin' like RuPaul Behind the scenes, he a fag, I tell 'em the truth y'all Hoes love me, wanna fuck me, tell her we only buddies Death threats, two broads'll suck me, know me as Cutty I'm big pimpin', still think different than most players The toast sprayer, fuck Bloomberg, I choke mayors My gross pay'll make an NBA salary Look like grams of fat, compared to calories, nigga
