Paroles: Fabolous. Fuck You Too.

(feat. Paul Cain)

[Paul Cain:]
Desert storm niggaz... I'm the first line of defense...
And I'm a show 'em what that means...

I know these niggas hoped I wouldn't make it fuck you
The hatred only made me wanna cake it fuck you
Whenever I see you nigga I'm a buck you
And put a hole in ya chest that's big enough to drive a truck through
I'll bring the drama back where you live
Splatter ya wig, reload and then point the mac at ya kids
So what I signed for some records
I still keep guns on me, but the difference now it's only deserts
If I talk it's gon be reckless I'm ready to die
So when I apply pressure niggas gon respect it
Tote guns to rob niggas, I tote 'em to use
And leave enemies and friends alike broken and bruised
They ain't crazy they just broke and confused
Cross me and there'll be talks of how the found a man smoked on the news
I'm a career crook... they used a mugshot
For my graduation picture and my junior high school yearbook
Paul Cain never appear shook
Yea I might talk to my enemies but never police
You wanna converse it better be brief
You ain't gotta say much show me the money and the cheddar a speak
If it ain't involvin bread
I ain't with it I don't need D's on me I'm already dodgin feds
When the shots from the revolver spread
Duck that don't discriminate leave CEO's and artists dead
Make slugs a part his head
Vanish then pop up in the SL double nickel scarlet red
Fuck you I'm tryna get my cash right
All my niggas flip birds and blast pipes addicted to the fast life
Live everyday like my last night
OD'n on X when I got signed like Len Bias on draft night, nigga

[Fabolous:]
I see ya faggot ass schemin fuck you
Bitch you don't wanna swallow semen fuck you
I know you hate the way I'm street dreamin fuck you
That's why I'm ridin clappin with the .40 cal screamin fuck you
When I pulled the five out
I kinda expected for the backstabbers to be standin behind me with they knives out
Then the range with the fins drove in
I wasn't shocked to see my foes dressed in friends clothin, but
I still pull through the Sta
With handguns as big as the one Robocop pulled from his thigh
You probly heard about the bullets I buy
And how it look like I'm throwin batteries when the bullets shoot by
So what you wear a vest, why would I care
If I aimed for ya chest that be a good idea, nigga
It's nothin to clap ya
But I'm more worried bout the groupie cops who wanna put they cuffs on a rapper
That's why I'm limpin off with a freak, and a lawyer
Who woulda got OJ Simpson off in a week
I can show you how to blow up on ya own
In the Benz that hit a buck, and make the doors go up on they own
With a stashbox compartment for
A handgun that make holes the size of peepholes on apartment doors
My closet look like department stores
And you wonder why your girl's comin home with a cigar scent for
Cause I just dumped her like dutch master guts
You won't believe how much ass I touch
Who else struts past the sluts
In a chain with so much ash and cuts that it hangs much past the nuts
That's why I get followed by broads
With deeper throats than the people at the circus that be swallowin swords
Your hopin that the don fall off
But my money long enough to keep shootin ya bank until ya arms fall off
I'm eatin, and I ain't have to use someone's utensils
But when you're clean as me you know that every bum is against you
But please don't let someone convince you
To test the kid and get hit with slugs as long as a number two pencil, fucker
I see ya faggot ass schemin fuck you
Bitch you don't wanna swallow semen fuck you
I know you hate the way I'm street dreamin fuck you
That's why I'm ridin clappin with the .40 cal screamin fuck you