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letra de represent me (dp remix) - fiction

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[hook]

i’m out for presidents to represent me
i’m out for presidents to represent me
i’m out for presidents to represent me
i’m out for dead f-cking presidents to represent me

[verse 1]

you see, my music is my hustle, my mind is my muscle
i got brawn for brains, yes, i’m ready to tussle
can’t you see, i’m not the brother you wanna press
i got these mother f-ckers p-ssing like marijuana tests

i can make a masterpiece with ease like master p
i’m trying to baffle these b-st-rds with this mastery
of this craft to be a mac with cheese
for the dead presidents, i -ss-ssin beats

i snap on a track like a rubber band
that fell outta the pockets of a running man, you understand?
gotta make that money but i don’t wanna run a man
with a gun in hand, taking funds and scram, do you understand?

probably not, not many do
the things that i’m going through and the dreams that i must pursue
and the stupid decisions i make just to get close to you
my green eyed girl, in a green eyed world

she’s a stranger to me, have you seen my world?
never know what to expect, i keep three eyes curled, ’cause
it’s dangerous living when money’s the motive
and i think it’s a given that money is soulless

cause when it gets involved they act funny and bogus
they packing tools they act a fool and now they running ya whole clique
oh sh-t, staring down the gun and ya hopeless
i wonder if the gunner had fun when he pulled it

[hook]:
i’m out for presidents to represent me
i’m out for presidents to represent me
i’m out for presidents to represent me
i’m out for dead f-cking presidents to represent me (x2)

who the f-ck is that?
oh, it’s fiction, baby!

[verse 2]

whatchu mean started from the bottom? stop ya speaking
you ain’t never had to slang green to keep ya faucet leaking
or to pay the cost of heating, i pray the boss is keeping
a spot for me in the attic with something soft to sleep in

cause the way i’m living life i can feel my coffin creeping
i am going off the deep end and it’s like i lost my reason
to go on, the block is heating, hold on, the cops are creeping
so long, but now they leaving, so long

now its back to the hustle, its back to the grind
i’m tryna run sh-t without clapping a nine
but i got a lot of bullets, are you faster than mine?
if your patient than doctor leone’s tapping ya spine

this is why i’m taking my time to master a rhyme
cause i’m getting sick of just packing up dimes
just waiting, for someone, to tell on me
catch ya slipping start to trip and catch a fell on knee

and i ain’t tryna be a scr-ped up jacob
i been there once before, no made up fake stuff
but it’s all said and done, and my c-ck’s been sucked
remember september? they tried to lock him up

but, i’m shaking bacon like pork in a blender
i’ll bite a f-cking bullet before i’m forced to surrender
even though the block is hotter than the scorches of ember
we hustling, the only known source of the tender

[hook]

- fiction

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