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Fes Taylor
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Party On
[Intro:Fes Taylor] Yo, check it, yeah, uh-huh Yo, check it, yeah, yo
[Fes Taylor] Yo, let me set it off like this Put it out quick, before they bite this Profes, who? Come on, I write hits Pull up the whips, no motorbike tricks We crack bottles like drunks on the corner It's over the wall, this one a goner Big league, still rock fatigue When I do dirt, fly when I rock the beat On stage with lots of peep, the crowd full of Lots of freaks, I gots to meet Slide to the download spot on the creek Thirty dollar room, she said 'you so cheap' I said, you so right, boo, I'm on a budget It ain't in my plans to pay for no loving I get high til the day I die Thug life til the day I fry, say bye When we ride to the Mac tracks, and Wolfpack Don't cross 'em like a black cat Rat-tat-tat, if ya mouth yap-yap-yap Telling the boys where I stash gats at I rep the Stat, it's the best of rap You pre-school MC's get left back, yo We got this rap shit locked, gangsta, my ratchet's pop We sitting at the top, wait til my album drop Is he the one, yes, the kid is here So everybody else stand clear I declare war, Two 4, ready to roll Rhymes like handguns, ready to blow Danger, son, I'm just letting you know Another banger, what ya'll expect from the pro?
[Chorus 2X: Fes Taylor] Everybody in the front get live Everybody in the back, wave 'em, side to side Now, everybody on the top, get high Everybody on the bottom, everything all right
[Fes Taylor] Aiyo, hold up, wait a minute Party ain't a party, 'less we up in it Lot of pretty women, we ain't spinnin' Difference between me and them, they pretending Keep it real, OK, radio get no play Rap styles, sound like you from the old days Should of went on tour with the O'Jay's In the hallway, almost shot Crackhead Jose And I don't play, beat me, no way Get bag mazed, won't say, all day Street codes, love hoes that'll deep throat Girls, I'm trynna lay you like free throw Wild out if I don't see dough Big four-four in a forty belows Squeeze those, play it right through your peephole Kick doors, take yours, like the repo Quiet when the heat blow, when the beef is on You better creep low, anything goes When it's war, if it's on it's on, shot for shot Song for song, ya'll been doing this wrong So I came here with W.P., Hennessey for the whole squad Yo, son, it's nothing to me Still, thugging a rhyme, they loving the beat Before the rap game, kid had to hustle to eat Used to, muscle the streets, run from the beast Cracks in my cheeks, puffin' the leak, heat under my seat Any M.C. want it with me? Rap tournament, for a fifty G. fee The great L.G., could it be, make everybody freeze now Somebody scream loud Two 4, we turn it out, greedy city, Dirty South
[Chorus 2X]
[Hook: Fes Taylor] We gon', get, this shit, right We flip, like, we piss, right It's our, turn, to rock, this I got, this, so watch, this Ya'll gon' see, it's Dub, P Great L, G, ya'll feel, me Mighty, Two, 4 War, yo Healthy, all, we won't fall
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