FES TAYLOR - Hands In The Air The Movie lyrics

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[Intro: Fes Taylor]Two 4 War/Divine Films presents Hands in the Air(Yo, Taylor, what up, my baby? And how ya?)Just came back from Nebraska and shit(I ain't seen you in a minute, I been in the studios and shitYou worked out hard and shit, right?) Yea, yea(I ain't heard you spit nothing in a minute though, kidYo, yo, lemme get some new shit, kid, right nowWe gotta get some new shit from you) I don't know(Right now, baby, haha, I know you got some shit for me, manThis ya boy, baby)[Fes Taylor]2 Fly, baby, they love it when I say itStill thugging when I play itAnd fucking with the greatest latest apparrel, my favorite avenuesWeigh it and bag it, see how fast this package movePiff, blow a sack or two, rap in the boothThen play the shit loud back in the CoupeI'm the artist that wouldn't give up, hardestI went from apartments, to big trucks at real estate auctionsCaution, crossing me, is like abortionsStill in the Porsches, making 'em nauseousWrist like a faucet, mix it with frostedTaylor, say I'm the truth, still different than all themThem niggz riffing, I call 'em a bunch of bitchesIf you see me balling, all my niggaz got lunch dishesI wouldn't munch delicious, and word to everythingI would've beat hoops if the rumors wasn't still pending[Interlude: Fes Taylor]Yo, yo, that shit was crazy, son, you didThat shit was wild, that shit was fire, dudeI really like that shit, b, yo, you be spitting that shit, kidI like that shit, b (yo, hold up, who the fuck is that over there?Yo, hold up, one second, just being down for kid, just telling you, niggaYo, ha, hold on, hold on, I'm telling these bitches)[Chorus 2X: Fes Taylor]See, I'm a fly dude, see me ride throughI'm feeling you mami, your hips and your thighs tooHow are you? You looking like a candy store girlI'm just trying to browse through, how that sound to you?[Fes Taylor]Enough about me, let's talk about youSee if you open the door when I walk around tooThe other side of the car on some Bronx Tale shitSee, I'm living like Sunny or them Barksdale kidsPardon if I act like you wearing a wireI beat the, checking me out, stare at my attireI'm flier than the birds over telephones wiresNiggaz telling I got birds in from of Judge MyersSuppliers and buyers, riders, you divide 'emMultiply with CD's, now they wanna sign 'emI've seen a lot of little me's, I don't be around 'emThey try to hate on the kid, I don't even clown 'emThe sound of them is like silence to my earsMost of the bullshit they saying I don't even hearCrib out in N.C., I ain't even thereSpend my weekends, Miami, laying on the beach, shareWhile she speech hares, she said "Lemme speak here"Gotta speak clear, put ya hands in the air[Outro: Fes Taylor]Yo, what the fuck? What the fuck?What the fuck type of shit is this?(Yo, hold up, you put ya gun down, man)Nah, fuck that, the fuck you wan' play me like that, man?Niggaz is bugging, I'm out of here, manWhat type of shit is this, b?This shit? Hell yea, you fucking bitchThe fuck kinda shit is this?You smoking weed and shit... (yo fuck that bitch)I don't even wanna believe this shit (yo that bitch a cop) {*gunshot*}