[Fes Taylor] Killa Mac, what up? Some niggaz crook back on the block, wolves clappin' them shots Snitch niggaz rat to the cops, my cash crops Make money grow from the trees, I blow on the D's Try to lay Officer Brown down, Kase rest in peace (alright) My niggaz stressed in the streets, wrestle with beasts Nah, I don't talk shit, son, it's special to speak Talk to him 'fore I put chalk to him Preacher dab holy water on his head, put a cross to him Lord forgive him cuz we all sinners While we livin' like slaves, eatin' pork dinners I stick a fork in ya, yea, see if he done Hard for him to breathe through his lung Guns go boom like we beatin' the drums, nigga Where I'm from, son, we eat in the slums, nigga Walk in my shoes, please, you at the bottom like gum, nigga Trigger 'pon cock, this ain't a robbery, nigga Most of you could keep ya charm and ya watch
[Chorus: Fes Taylor] It's a homicide, it ain't over 'til we ride on these bitch-ass niggaz, you seen me glide, right? Stay low, aim straight, all I got is my pride Yellin' out \"Fuck that, somebody gotta die\"
[Fes Taylor] It's like, death to anybody who fronted on me, you want it homey? I play the corners broley, won't let the Lord control me I run up in Sony, smack a few A&R's Cuz life is a gamble, I'm just playin' my cards Niggaz better pray to God, that I don't spray ya squad Ill song writer, murder MC's, my favorite job The streets'll say he's hard Hot 97'll say he ain't commercial enough so they ain't playin' our's Fuck it, I say some bars that'll make you quit ya day job And fuck with the block, I'm tryin' to cook this cake large 'Fore the judge say \"Officer, take charge\" That's why we don't cut niggaz, leavin' their face scarred I lay niggaz, buck niggaz, all in ya face, God Screamin' out \"Fuck niggaz\" all in ya face, God They listen to the way he spit \"Damn, son, you murder it\" This is what I gotta do, the Staten Island's heard of it
[Chorus]
[Fes Taylor] Black down, pull my hat down, I pull a gat now That's when he cracked a smile, held up a child My neighborhood's cracked out, son, some I'm handin' back South So I took the cash route, did what you asked 'bout Just put the M*A*S*H out, kinda like my last bout Crashed mouth, son you ain't a man, you a half mouse Rat-ass nigga, get snake, clear the grass out Still throwin' stones, know you livin' in a glass house (alright) Niggaz puttin' trash out, wonder why we lash out? Seen the size of the barrel and damn near passed out Teachers tell 'em class out, I'm a School of Hard Knocks graduate With hammers like we rolled up in Battleships Nah, this ain't a battle, bitch Any type of embarrassment, resort to the old school avenue sticks I'm talkin' milk boxes, not cereal, nigga Don't make it in rap, I'd be a hip hop serial killa
[Chorus]
[Outro: Fes Taylor] Yo, yo, yo, that's my mothafuckin' word, B Yo, yo, this that get fresh shit right here, B Y'all niggaz think, you see my niggaz on some fuckin' all actuality fly shit, right? We pretty happy Don't got the fuckin' hammers and shit I ain't mad, it's pretty, nigga Fuck y'all niggaz think, man?
