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Fabolous - Death In The Family Lyrics

feat Paul Cain


Tough times don't last, but tough people do
I father niggas the way Wayne and Puff reproduce
Little rap bastards, running round with your snapback caps backwards
Should be in rap caskets
Who you think showed them to go hard with stunting?
And who you think showed them that those broads was nothing?
And who you think showed them that those cars was something?
And when Father's Day came, I got no card or nothing
So I ain't out here trying to expose frauds for nothing
And I ain't out here pulling these hoes' cards for nothing
They was bitches on deck, y'all made em queens
Watching sports with a chick who got ballplayer dreams -- swish
I'm watching these dogs play with my old bones
I feel like niggas done found one of my old phones
We in the house -- y'all look into home loans
And when the market was up, you wouldn'tve sold, holmes
So this the foreclosure of the wanna-be
If you can't be yourself, then who you gonna be?
Dad to your swag, your style was like a son to me
Your stylist got thank-yous, you never sent one to me
Let's pray for 'im, y'all repeat this one with me
"Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray for those who run with me
If I die before I wake, arrest the girl I brung with me
I give the Lord my swag to take whenever God is done with me"


I be saying to myself as I put on the gloves
"It hurts when you gotta kill a nigga you love"

Paul Cain:

It's painful when best friends become your enemies
And you're finding out that they're not who they pretend to be
The whole time, you conspired to put an end to me
And I'm still trying to show this nigga love -- silly me
So I might shed tears as I put on my gloves
But I won't show emotion when I fill him with slugs
Cause niggas die every day here, and you can get hit
Picking your seed up from daycare, niggas don't play fair
That's why I'm straightforward, fuck being all discreet
And knock him off quick, fuck beefing on for weeks
So we was up late night hunting, y'all was sleep
Cause we the wolves hiding in clothes, y'all the sheep
Who taught you the game, who showed y'all the streets?
And who brought in the things they sold y'all for cheap?
And who came with the bail when them hoes called police?
Now you're fronting, so I gotta expose y'all deceit
Ungrateful motherfucker -- who fed you when you was hurting?
Whenever drama came up, who was putting the work in?
I was spitting live on Hot 9, you was still rehearsing
Already my son, and this was before I met you in person
So no matter how many colorful fake chains you purchase
Like that bullshit you wearing, you always gonna be worthless
You just spit it, I lived it -- who's really writing the verses?
Los put him in a casket -- who you think's driving the hearses?

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