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Track byFiend

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  • 2006.11.14
  • 4:06
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(*talking*) Warning, the men you are about to hear You shouldn't have access to, the subject matters Individuals on this c.d., is unleased Into the public, may cause a nationwide in power (Fiend) What up, you just started up a legacy Survival for the hopeful, chapters full of recipes Remember this feeling, when a good nigga is mentioned Close your mouth, if you can't help his conditions I hustled, till the pain became funny Muscle any damn thing, just to gain us money Us money, how could I blame a living soul The grind called on me, like you could be getting mo' So I hit the slab, like Cab Shorty and Bino Seven days, 24 like Harra's Casino Got a daughter, on the way Down to this last, little quarter of the yay Hurry up, you're acting funny all day But I never had my eggs in one batch That's like thinking, they just made one gat In every crew, there's at least one rat Who, wanna bet a hundred G's on that (*talking*) Yeah man, I got the bootleg copy ya heard me I listen to them niggaz man My hustle game is just surprise, you heard me I stopped smoking that dirt, all I smoke is that purple now Ya heard me, can't get me none of that (Fiend) My love life is dust, wake up getting it Thug what the fuss, sitting here missing it Every moment without it, moving to an exponent I just think on the sets, and many threats that want it Depressed, at distance I travel like my family, no existence Until I get that call from my baby, like tonight And she like I know what you doing, you in the studio right-right Tell her I love her, jump up off the jack To the swamps, where I could dump off this crack I'ma make a lump sum, off of that I call it parallel parking, it'll make you ok come on back I might drop me a solo, I might change my name The cops calling us polo, it's Mike of the game Knee deep in it, where's the devotion And remember, jealousy is a wasted emotion (*talking*) Yeah man look shit, we all gotta pass you know I told my niggaz, look I'm engaged to you But look, I'm married to these fucking streets That's what I love, these fucking streets (Corner Boy P) Straight from the cracks, of Flay Street When the sound of breaks squeak, will have you hopping gates to the next street Addicts coming for crack, and they'll pay you on next week Nigga I want it now, I want the coupe and the Porsche jeep I'm doper than when niggaz, putting balloons The scent was too loud, I couldn't hide the drawer in the room And I'm comfortable, so when I jab I connect And that dirty money, kept a nigga clean so fresh (Fiend) And thanks I'm giving, 'fore the streets started calling O's butterballs Vick's want a slice, but gotta wait till I cut it dog My day and night time, gig have a gunning ball And mostly keep heat, not turning the oven off Hot pitching cool, some of New Orleans With hood honorable mentions, and everyone of us balling My threads real cost, and this a guard got still pause And when the dial got made, I feel lost (*talking*) Warning, the men you are about to hear You shouldn't have access to, the subject matters Individuals on this c.d., is unleased Into the public, may cause a nationwide in power

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