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letra de fuck you too - fabolous

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yeah, desert storm n-gg-z, cain
ghetto, i got these n-gg-z man
clue, i’m the first line of defense
and i’ma show ’em what that means

i know these n-gg-z hoped i wouldn’t make it, f-ck you
your hatred only made me wanna cake ya, f-ck you
wherever i see you n-gg- i’ma buck you
and put a hole in your chest that’s big enough to drive a truck through

i bring the drama back where you lives, flatter your wiz
reload and then point the mag at your kids
so what i sound remorse, the records i still peep guns on me
but the difference now is only deserts

if i talk it’s gonna be reckless, i’m ready to die
so when i apply pressure, n-gg-z gon’ respect it
tote guns to rob n-gg-z, i told ’em to use
and leave enemies of friends that like broken and bruised

they ain’t crazy, they just broke and confused, cross me
and they’ll be talks of how they found the man smoked on the news
i’ma career crook, they used a mug shot from my graduation picture
and my junior high school yearbook

paul cain never appear shook
yeah, 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’ll 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, i don’t discriminate, leave ceo’s and artists dead

make slugs a part of his head
vanish then pop up in a sl double nickel, scarlet red
f-ck you, i’m tryna get my cash right
all my n-gg-z flip birds and blast pipes, addicted to the fast life

live everyday like my last night, od’in or x
when i got signed like len bias on draft night
n-gg-z, street dreams, yeah uh, yeah

i see ya f-ggot -ss schemin’, f-ck you
b-tch, you don’t wanna swallow s-m-n, f-ck you
no, you hate the way i’m “street dreamin'”, f-ck you
that’s why i ridin’, clappin’, wit’ the .40 cal screamin’, f-ck you

when i pulled the 5 out, i kinda expected
for the backstabbers, to be standin’ behind me, wit’ they knives out
then the range, wit’ the fins drove in
i wasn’t shocked to see my foes, dressed in friends clothin’

but, i still pull through the sty, wit’ handguns
as big as the one, robocop pulled from his thigh
you prolly 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 aim for ya chest, that be a good idea
n-gg-, it’s nothing to clap ya, but i’m more worried
bout the groupie cops, who wanna put they cuffs on a rappa

that’s why i’m limpin’ off wit a freak and a lawyer
who woulda got o.j. simpson off in a week
i could show you how to blow up on ya own in a benz
that’ll hit a buck and make the windows go up on they own

wit a stash box compartment for
a handgun that make holes the size of peep holes
on apartment doors, my closet look like department stores
and you wonder why ya girl’s comin’ home, wit’ a cigar sip for

’cause i just dump the light dutch, mash the guts
you won’t believe how much -ss i touch
who else struts p-ss the sl-ts, and a chain wit’ so much
ash and cuts, that it hangs much p-ss the nuts

that’s why i get followed by broads, wit’ deeper throats
then the people at the circus, that be swallowin’ swords
y’all hopin’ that the don fall off, but my money’s long enough
to keep shootin’ ya bank until, ya arms fall off

i’m eatin’ and i ain’t have to use someone’s utinsels
and when you clean as me, you know that every b-m is against you
but please don’t let someone convince you to test the kid
and get hit wit’ slugs as long, as a no. 2 pencil, f-cka

i see ya f-ggot -ss schemin’, f-ck you
b-tch, you don’t wanna swallow s-m-n, f-ck you
no, you hate the way i’m “street dreamin'”, f-ck you
that’s why i ridin’, clappin’, wit’ the .40 cal screamin’, f-ck you

i see ya f-ggot -ss schemin’, f-ck you
b-tch, you don’t wanna swallow s-m-n, f-ck you
no, you hate the way i’m “street dreamin'”, f-ck you
that’s why i ridin’, clappin’, wit’ the .40 cal screamin’, f-ck you

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