FES TAYLOR

FES TAYLOR - Pop Off lyrics

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Fes Taylor - Pop Off

[Fes Taylor]

Y'all been hating for a long time, and I ain't said shit yet

What I gotta do to get respect

Pull out pistol on people, brought burners to battles

Rather resort to violence, then spit words, then at you

So if we go head up, I punch first, jab and hook

My pen's the fire, to any pad or book

Pieces of paper, turning to flame, return of the game

Make acid fall from the sky, burn when it rain

Murder you slang, Taylor'll bang like Hussein

A Wolf with two fangs, manuever with gangs

New York slang salesman, heat put a tan on your pale skin

You dumb *****s, like Launchpad from TailSpin

Cops stay corrupt, play parts like Anthony Quinn

***** your man up, now tell me who the champion then

I play blocks like a stop sign, see me on every corner

Glock nine, I pop mine, bury the informer

[Chorus 2X: Fes Taylor]

Everybody got a gun, but how many is really popping off

Everybody running in buildings, when villains popping off

It ain't safe for women and children, when it's popping off

Be a man, stop the talk and start popping off

[Fes Taylor]

Hunger pains got my stomach touching my back

In my younger days, I was pumping crack, clutching my gat

I'm older now, so they expect me to hold it down

Go to war with police that patrol my town

Staten Isle, I'm straight from the livest borough

Disagree, oh yeah, you can die in your borough

You lie in a puddle, I fly in your shuttle, BMW

Z4, the law make you cry and you crumble

Gangstas humble, Wolf Pack's anxious to rumble

Warriorz'll jump you in the jungle, you hating, ***** you

Middle finger to the sky, this year we getting bigger pieces of the pie

Tell my Visa, goodbye

I coughed alot, you leasing a 5, you fought from the top

Reach for the sky, hard on the block, you seak in disguise

Push the record buttong on your cassette decks

Made songs in the crib, with a mic and a handset

[Chorus 2X]

[Fes Taylor]

Yo, capital L, capital G, if I die or retire

You rappers'll be happy something happen to me

Nobody can't eat no more, til my belly full

Purple haze blunts, make me choke after every pull

No machete pull, got guns under heavy wool

Wintertime, jet ski's on the back, while the Chevy pull

Tahoe with Joey's finest, I'm Shaolin's grimiest

America's most wanted, you'll probably find me with

Product of Park Hill, NARC's tried to stick me with marked bills

So they can ship me, the art to kill, but

I move too swift, grown ass man with a two fifth

Playing with a child's gun, claiming you ruthless

This is true shit, Deck, what's good, my nigga?

This is 'The Movement', ***** you with a pool stick

Like Gano D, 'In Too Deep', I've been through beef

Make the block hot, son, like central heat

[Chorus 2X]

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