Now What - Lyrics - More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: Now What
Album: More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): Ken Ifill, Shari Watson, Eve Jeffers, E Shaw, John Jackson, Andre Young

Lyric:
Uh, they call me G H E T T O, nigga
Uh, uh, I'm back on that bullshit
Ha, ha, who could fuck around? Huh? Uh

I bet you look at things from a different perspective
When you see the size of the slugs, the fifth or the tech get
A couple'll lift a detective and make sure the legs
That he used to walked with is defective

All you niggas do is sit on blocks and jive
About who's the baddest bitch and if Pac's alive
Nigga, I'm in a aqua five with a button
That make the roof flip back like pocket knives

I can't knock ya drive, you feelin' like Rocky
Till you get a beatin' like he got in Rocky 5
The squad'll still hold toast and get these bitches
To open they legs wider than a field goal post

Broke niggas don't wanna stand my grind so they knock it
Think my jeans got Mickey D's signs on my pockets
The hydro combined with the chocolate have ya eyes
Lookin' like the tall dude who signed with the Rockets

The flow is so sick, sooner or later
These niggas gonna need barf bags bigger than golf bags
The coke get flew on planes monthly and cops search me
For weapons harder than they do in Hussein country

And any chick that get a view of the chain wit me
I guess that's what Jay meant by chain reactions
Bitch, it's nothin' to thumb off some notes
Fuck a dealer, I get 'em when they come off the boat, fucka

Yeah, ghetto, Fab, nigga, uh, uh, Street Family
Uh, pay attention, y'all, please, uh, yeah
You could love Fab, hate Fab, I don't care
Send ya clothes with the check or I don't wear

Uh, huh, yeah, uh, uh, yeah
Street Dreams the mixtape, uh, huh yeah
Uh, let's get this money, y'all
Let's get this money, y'all, uh, uh, uh

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Now Ride - Lyrics - More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: Now Ride
Album: More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): John David Jackson, H Jordan

Lyric:
Yeah, yeah ha ha ha
Yeah, uh uh uh
Uh uh uh
Uh uh uh

Niggaz ain't gon' be happy till I click on a rage
Pick up a gauge, and it's my face, that they stick on front page
Gotta be careful, I could pull a thick of the age
Chick on the stage, and winde up, sick in a cage

When I come through, it's usually in Dickies that's beige
Pushing a "Eleanor", like I'm Nicholas Cage
And it's funny how a few bucks can
Get you put under a white sheet, like you in the Ku Klux Klan

It's Street Fam' for life, we ride to the death
We play hard dog, don't cry to the rest
I don't know you, please move to the left
Or stay here and get introduced to the tefs

I'm riding till the wheels come off it
(Yeah)
Grindin till a mil' come off it
(Yeah)
This is my plate, I eat every meal from off it
Why y'all try and steal crumbs off it, jump

(Now ride)
Top down, chrome rims spinnin and
(Now ride)
Gun cock, hollows in the clip now
(Now ride)
Chop rocks, put it on a strip now
(Now ride)
Y'all know Street Family gon'
(Ride)

(Now ride)
Top down, chrome rims spinnin and
(Now ride)
Gun cock, hollows in the clip now
(Now ride)
Chop rocks, put it on a strip now
(Now ride)
Y'all know Street Family gon'
(Ride)

Now when I spray wit the Sauer, I gotta spend a day wit the lawyer
Worryin 'bout, who say that saw ya
Keep ya with the oyers, two kids on the block
Like when Mourning and Mutumbo, used to play wit the Hoyas

I'ma boss, that you can never upstand
Or get a red dot on you, like a 7-Up can
Some of y'all caught feelings from way back
Others waited till I came through, short willing the Maybach

But I'm still bucking like, five, duce, four, trey
Still tucking and letting the fo' spray
Still ducking where ever the po's lay
And still fucking, and making them hoes say, whoa

And I know Fed's seen
The old school Chevy, with the dope head lean
Y'all love the way I R I D E
Call my D E, and put you on a R I P T, ghetto

(Now ride)
Top down, chrome rims spinnin and
(Now ride)
Gun cock, hollows in the clip now
(Now ride)
Chop rocks, put it on a strip now
(Now ride)
Y'all know Street Family gon'
(Ride)

(Now ride)
Top down, chrome rims spinnin and
(Now ride)
Gun cock, hollows in the clip now
(Now ride)
Chop rocks, put it on a strip now
(Now ride)
Y'all know Street Family gon'
(Ride)

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Can'T Let You Go (Remix) - Lyrics - More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: Can'T Let You Go (Remix)
Album: More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): Justin Gregory Smith, Cynthia Loving, John David Jackson

Lyric:
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no

Homie, I don't think you know me, no
And I don't think I know you, no
But this clip on the 16
You actin' like I can't let them, shorty!
I don't think you know me, no
And I don't think I know you, no
The way you shakin' that ass, no, no, no

Now there's nothin' in this world that I can't get ya
I can't sweat ya, but I can't let ya
Don't get carried away, I just met ya
Or you can get carried away on that stretcher
And you respect this gangster
When you lookin' at this big diamonds and the necklace, ain't ya?

Checking the 22s on the Lexus ain't ya?
Peepin' at them black air mex's ain't ya?
Friends would say I'm gassin' ya
'Cause there ain't enough room in the coupe for more passengers
But while they feedin' and hatin', we be leanin' and escapin'
Keep these beats circulating, but you mean I be thinking

Shorty's, a little bit too hype but if a nigga give her anything
It will be the pipe, and it will be alright
'Cause you know the kid will be the type
And do it like Lewinsky, beeyatch!

Homie, I don't think you know me, no
And I don't think I know you, no
But this clip on the 16
You actin' like I can't let them, shorty!
I don't think you know me, no
And I don't think I know you, no
But you lookin' so good
And that's just why I can't let them, no

You will never step out of line and come out your face
'Cause you don't want to see these guns come out the waist
It'll be weeks before your neck come out the brace
Months before the verdict come out the case
When I'm there, the hypno come out the case
Hip hop pops wait for me to come out the place

But you know whenever fellas go through
I'm in the platinum and yellow gold too
I'll always get them girls do the kinky things
When they see the size of the pinky ring
It looks like a bracelet on my finger, wedding ring in my ear
Earrings on my neck, yeah what you expect

Nigga, I'm something like a pimp, something about the limp
Before something like I'm pimp
Instead I'm something like a pimp
'Cause every thirty days I'm pulling up with something with a tint

Homie, I don't think you know me, no
And I don't think I know you, no
But this clip on the 16
You actin' like I can't let them, shorty!
I don't think you know me, no
And I don't think I know you, no
But you lookin' so good
And that's just why I can't let them, no

And I know something that you don't know
Can't nobody stop my nine
Can't nobody stop my shine
Can't nobody stop my grind
And I know something that you don't know
Can't nobody stop my flow
Can't nobody stop my glow
Can't nobody stop my dough

Uh oh, you might see me in Brooklyn
My heed is homie if you ever see me in Brooklyn
'Cause my hat is on the top down when I go back
My bulletproof vest on under the throwback
I don't see no other platinum rappers
Doing good like me in the hood like me
But keep it in the stat for when they pull the rover
You heard what happened the last time they pull me over?

Homie, I don't think you know me, no
And I don't think I know you, no
But this clip on the 16
You actin' like I can't let them, shorty!
I don't think you know me, no
And I don't think I know you, no
But you lookin' so good
And that's just why I can't let them, no

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F You Too - Lyrics - More Street Dreams Pt. 2 : The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: F You Too
Album: More Street Dreams Pt. 2 : The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): Paul M Cain, Darrin Dean, Kasseem Dean, Ken Ifill, John David Jackson, Sean D Jacobs, Jason T Phillips, Ernesto Shaw, David Styles

Lyric:
Yeah, Desert Storm niggaz, Cain
Ghetto, I got these niggaz man
Clue, I'm the first line of defense
(Yeah)
(Yeah)
And I'ma show 'em what that means
(Yeah)

I know these niggaz hoped I wouldn't make it, fuck you
Your hatred only made me wanna cake ya, fuck you
Wherever I see you nigga 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, niggaz gon' respect it
Tote guns to rob niggaz, 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
Fuck you I'm tryna get my cash right
All my niggaz 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
(Yeah)
Niggaz
Street Dreams
(Yeah, yeah)

I see ya faggot ass schemin', fuck you
Bitch you don't wanna swallow semen, fuck you
No you hate the way I'm street dreamin', fuck you
That's why I ridin', clappin', wit the .40 Cal screamin', fuck you

When I pulled the 5 out, I kinda expected
For the back stabbers, 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
Nigga, 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 ass I touch
Who else struts pass the sluts, and a chain wit so much
Ash and cuts, that it hangs much pass 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 bum 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, fucka

I see ya faggot ass schemin', fuck you
Bitch you don't wanna swallow semen, fuck you
No you hate the way I'm street dreamin', fuck you
That's why I ridin', clappin', wit the .40 Cal screamin', fuck you

I see ya faggot ass schemin', fuck you
Bitch you don't wanna swallow semen, fuck you
No you hate the way I'm street dreamin', fuck you
That's why I ridin', clappin', wit the .40 Cal screamin', fuck you

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Think Y'All Know - Lyrics - More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: Think Y'All Know
Album: More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): Khari Cain, John Jackson

Lyric:
I think y'all know by now it's F A B O L O U S
I think y'all know by now it's

You ain't never seen a nigga this large
Motherfuck the house, the nigga's garage is as big as the pros
I move from city to city like a nigga at large
This move is Billy D, but it's Jigga's da bars
Like you really gon' get me
You look hard, but on the inside
You softer than a silicon titty
The chill's wrong with me

You can look at the kid and see just
How them chinchillas gonna fit me
I strut through like I conceal a chrome with me
Pockets bulgin' like I got some millions with me
Any bitch that chill her Jones with me
End up butt ass naked inside a villa horn with me

I got a zip lock the killer grown with me
I hit it as Bobby and let me fill up on Whitney
Justin a prob give us like he feel I boned Britney
I really don't get me, I really won't get me

I think y'all know by now that
I ain't nothin' to be fucked with
I think y'all know by now that
I don't care about who you fuck with
I think hoes know by now that
I'm that nigga they should fuck with
I think y'all know by now it's F A B O L O U S

I'm often asked, hey, ain't you that guy
There's no one else from head to ankle that fly
Who put slugs pointblank through that guy
And there's nothin' these dudes ain't do that I, can't do at my
Earliest convenience, your girlie ain't foreseen since
The feature with lil' more, over two million people
I've reached with my little flow
They said sounded like the kid whose speech was a little slow

Personally I think they was reachin' a little dough
But now they callin' just to get a feature so it'll blow
I'm teaching' my little bro
To stay on the grind and away from the leeches and little hoes
I'll lose the black star power on broads
Even Devil worshipers got up outta the God
I know all you cowards is hard
Your career's dead, so I send flowers and cards
With our regards, nigga

I think y'all know by now that
I ain't nothin' to be fucked with
I think y'all know by now that
I don't care 'bout who you fuck with
I think hoes know by now that
I'm that nigga they should fuck with
I think y'all know by now it's F A B O L O U S

{Nigga, I think they know by now
Who the fuck I be? Oh yeah, but I'm}

I'm with that S T R E E T F A M I L Y

{For you non spellin' motherfuckers, street family yeah
Brooklyn fuck up, word to Brooklyn}

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Niggaz - Lyrics - More Street Dreams Pt. 2 : The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: Niggaz
Album: More Street Dreams Pt. 2 : The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): Joseph Anthony Budden, Paul M Cain, Mark Hines, Ken Ifill, John Jackson, Ernesto David Jr Shaw, Jasun Wardlaw

Lyric:
Yeah y'all, this the Triangle Offense
Ghetto Fab, Paul Cain, Joe Buddens
We all 'Street Dreams', at one time or another
Fast cars, cash, money, hustlin', c'mon y'all, Desert Storm

Some niggas thug and some niggas is bitch
Some niggas'll rob and some niggas'll pitch
Some niggas ain't got shit, some niggas rich
Some niggas do the time and some live as a snitch

Now some niggas like to pull out and talk, some niggas pop off
Some niggas found they way to the top, some niggas got lost
Some niggas keep it thorough in jail, some niggas got soft
Some niggas ride hard top Coupe, I pull the top off

And quick to speed off on the jake
Quick to back, any nigga gettin' money, come up off of the safe
Fuck the city, I'm extortin' the state
I'm like O, from the 'Wire', walk wit a sawed-off and a .8
When I was taught, never talk wit a snake

When you kill a nigga you love, you pay for the coffin' and weight
Get you wrapped up and tossed in a lake
If you can't get the whole pie, just take ya portion and skate
Don't fuck wit niggas, if they soft or they fake

Only jail cats and niggas going back and forth
To court could relate, fuck wit me and I'ma alter ya fate
Send some wolves after ya girl
I specialize in torture and rape

We in the game most dudes ain't built for
Cain talk the type of shit, niggas get killed for
Whatever it's gon' be, let it be, I ain't waistin' a slug
And time is money and when it come to mind, take it in blood, nigga

Some niggas thug and some niggas is bitch
Some niggas rob and some niggas'll pitch
Some niggas ain't got nothin', some niggas rich
Some niggas do the time and some live as a snitch

These niggas act like, I ain't sling the clip at the last lane
And ran to the cops to bring the tips of the last names
(Nigga)
Like I ain't bring the shipments and past caine
And sticky that'll leave ya finger tips wit the grass stains
(Nigga)

Like I don't swing and zip through the fast lane
Would you believe, this ringer chipped me a fast range?
(Nigga)
Like I ain't sling on stips, till my past fame
And stacked it up, like the Pringle chips, when the cash came
(Nigga)

Like I ain't fling and dip, when the task came
I knew these niggas sing like pits, so I stash change
The singles chipped in my ass changed
But this player never pay for, them rings and whips, just to gas dance

I'm why you stay in touch wit ya writer
Even made you pick up ya pen and start clutchin' it tighter
I ain't much of a fighter but I know, everything
About rollin' up, like a Dutch in a Spyder
My dope is much more than whiter

One hit'll have the fiends yellin' out
They need crutches and lighters
The Fed's can't touch us indict us
And the hoes can't even get numbers
They wanna stay in touch, they could write us, nigga

Some niggas thug and some niggas is bitch
Some niggas rob and some niggas'll pitch
Some niggas ain't got shit, some niggas rich
Some niggas do the time and some live as a snitch

Listen, listen, I lived that life, of click-clack life
The kidnap life, the kid's the wise, I did that twice
You prolly see that through ya bitch ass eyes
Still I'm that nigga that you get at why

Man forget that they knew me, remeber me thug
I'm from that same block, rips snorkle on ja dip in a Lucy
'Member they back you down, when knives was out
.45 was out, scully ya eyes come out

But now could you hear nigga all in this place
That when you see him in the streets, you gettin' all in his face
More you give a nigga, the more that he takes and you wanna beef
Knowin' I'm slower than do so, 'cause I got much more at stake

Huh, that's why I'm ignorin' ya page
I can't respect you no more, you's a fraud and a snake
But you noticed that's the hate that I love
You see me eating off rat, that same feat you think you capable of

Don't get me worng, I would like to get it
But you acting like, I ain't blow my show money on a rifle fetish
And my pop's voluntarily, surrendered to the Fed's
This is the wrong time to fuck wit my head

I'm tryna tell you, friends are ya worst enemies
So if I make friends wit my worst enemies
That'll maybe even things out
But one in ya dome is easy, get it on if need be
Chrome for sheezy, please, don't believe me

Some niggas thug and some niggas is bitch
Some niggas'll rob and some niggas'll pitch
Some niggas ain't got nothin', some niggas rich
Some niggas do the time and some live as a snitch, nigga

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B.K. Style - Lyrics - More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: B.K. Style
Album: More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): Kim Jones, Ken Ifill, Mashonda Tifrere, John David Jackson, Ernesto Shaw, Kasseem Dean

Lyric:
Yea, its 'bout to get real hard for these niggas to move man
Somebody get these niggas some wheelchairs or somethin'

Goin' to war is still a scary issue
But in my hood they train to kill wit every pistol
Like a military issue
Guess you a star if you sell a million every disc two
Catch a gun case an' bounce, still they'll barely frisk you
Cuz, I proved I move the retail
Make the smoothest grooves wit female
And I remove the rules on V12's
You never ain't never seen it move this smooth on Sprewell's
I'm a hustler, he's just a middle man to me
The way I pass the rock, could make Jason Kidd a fan of me
Just cop one joint, I'm a one point somethin'
Still I had you at gunpoint, with one joint dumpin'
So watch what you say to them, crackers
I'll put a couple g's on yer head, like you play for the packers
I'm rap's Labron James, I quickly see baskets
These scrubs wouldn't make it to the Mickey-D's classics
You got some sticky weed, pass it
If not put it out, I'm pushin' it before they put it out
Wit the dash, wooded out, Shaq O'Neal, footed out
Blastin' a do-did-it, first before they put it out, clue

Maybe wouldn't be a million kids wit they faces on containers
If cops pursue the same way they chase us entertainers
In the hood, a few big faces and a chain-a
Get metal in ya mouth, like braces and retainers
Even the young bucks be scheming on somebody change
Tryin' a sell somebody 'cain, before they even potty trained
You can smooth talk your way into a hottie brain
Have her suckin' long enough to leave a nigga body drained
I wasn't taught, I learned from watchin' stupid people
That'll run up shootin' in front of a group of people
I lay in a cut, the same way the troopers peep you
Ride up on yer Coupe creep you
Why you let a groupie deep you?
'Cuz even if you reppin' like a man of steel
You gon' still need a weapon when you land a deal
One for watch you slippin' like you steppin' on banana peels
Think a nigga ain't gon' pull a weapon cuz you scanned a mil'?
I crept in and got handed meals
Now the white and black rides look like salt, pepper on a bannon grill
Think I wouldn't hold a Pepsi in my hand for mil's?
You must be fuckin' stupid, nigga

Yeah
Brooklyn stand the fucker
Every project, rebourse, Kings Borough
Push wig, for grain
Fill it in, brown fill
Lengston you, LG
Linda, bandi, steflo, Brooklyn
All believe, Glym wall
Abyss fill, faragay
Mossly
Talkin' stumlo, Guonas
Rosawell
I'm just the project nigga myself

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I Usually Don'T - Lyrics - More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: I Usually Don'T
Album: More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): John David Jackson, Taiwan Green

Lyric:
Uh, uh, uh
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ha, ha

I beep my horn and they come to the car
Damn right, they come to a stall
That's right, it come with the car
Now tell your boss, you can't come in tomorrow

My dro come by the jar
They bring me drinks, why come by the bar?
Nah, nigga I ain't come here to spar
These hallow tips will come where you are

I stomp through smooth with the soldiers
Two steppin', movin' my shoulders
Now the money's rollin' in
We got bottles lined up like bowlin' pins

Mami, you standin' with a slouch
Starin' at me while I'm standin on the couch
Come and get in the blue flames
Have a sip of this blue shit and let's rock

Now you know I don't usually do this
But you lookin' good tonight
And you know I don't usually do this
But you gon' smoke tonight

And you know I don't usually do this
But you gon' drink tonight
And you know I don't usually do this
But you gon' fuck tonight

Now who's hot? Who's not?
I can take the few shots you've got
I can burn a few knots you've got
I can blow the few spots you've got

But I chill, I will
Get it to poppin' whenever I feel
I still shut it down
And I white and yellow stud it down

Watch them pretty girls strut it 'round
Take the birdies and putt it down
Like Tiger Woods did it but I'm hood with it
You've never seen a thug look as good with it

And I promise that, fuck with me
You better move where Osama's at
You see I'm in here with the white ones on
Tryin' to get fucked up 'for the lights come on, let's go

Now you know I don't usually do this
But you lookin' good tonight
And you know I don't usually do this
But you gon' smoke tonight

And you know I don't usually do this
But you gon' drink tonight
And you know I don't usually do this
But you gon' fuck tonight

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Make U Mine - Lyrics - More Street Dreams Pt. 2 : The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: Make U Mine
Album: More Street Dreams Pt. 2 : The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): Winsome Singh, Adeka Stupart, Ken Ifill, Jovann Alexander, Chad Elliot, Kelly Rowland, Joe Budden, E Shaw, John Jackson, M Shorey, M Knowles

Lyric:
Yeah, uhh

I know I make you wanna leave the one you with
But I ain't Usher Raymond
I'm the kid that they rush to blamin', for the crush they claimin'
Who can make em' blush the same when I ask
"What's my name" and they yell F A B ooh
You shouldn't have even brought her my direction
Unless she was handcuffed with an order of protection, yeah
I'm talkin' wreckless now
'Cause I'm the reason that your girlfriends are your ex's now

I'm the fella that keep 'em yellin', and it's nuttin' to get 'em
I don't sweat em', its what I tell em' and they quickly forget em'
And I bet em' I get them to forget the day that they met em'
And I let em', 'cause I can bend em' and it's more then the denim
But I've been on the move, while you dudes be sleeping
The coupe on 22's keep the shorty sneaking
And she won't tell the truth, she too used to creepin'
When Mike is in the booth, it's the truth I'm speaking

Any girl I gave it to can't even go love another man
I give it to 'em like no other brother can
She say, "My man can barely move me"
But boy you made me scream, like a scary movie
On top of that I'm smoother then the rest of the gangstas
And I knew that dude you met, was a wanksta
Oh, damn homie, your girl is with the Street Fam Homie
And she ain't fuckin' with you

It's a shame, you lames can't even maintain your dames
And it's insane the way, that she gave me brain
My pimp game the same, don't forget the name
And when chicks peep the chain, they just can't restrain
Shorty don't try to fake it, just up and face it
Your time is being wasted, your mans a basic
See it all in his face, that he's cheap and tasteless
But life is what you make it, just watch the bracelet

I bet your man can't do it like me
His veins don't pump pimp fluid like me
He's nowhere near or like me
And he probably think keeping you in check
Is buying you a pair of Nike's
Why wouldn't I get dome from her
When the digits on my checks, look like phone numbers
Fuck it, you might as well tell that buster skid addle
Not even cockrin can help him win this custody battle

Catch me in the club, with a case of bub
And a thick chick to rub, niggas hate because
When they sit in the truck, they be quick to fuck
When I'm getting a nut, they just lick it up
I'm their favorite, plus the flow is dangerous
I don't aim to get shortys out of relationships
But they crave the chips, how many the range can fit
She just changed a bit, since I got the hang of it

That's right we got the hang of it
Mike shorey
Fabolous
Street family
Desert storm
I know you his but I wanna make you mine
You know, ha ha, yeah

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Renegade - Lyrics - More Street Dreams Pt. 2 : The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: Renegade
Album: More Street Dreams Pt. 2 : The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): Marshall Iii Mathers, Ken Ifill, Shawn Carter, John Jackson, Ernesto Shaw

Lyric:
Uh, you think I give a fuck about
What these niggas say man
They even talked about Jesus

I ain't mad at when it rain, 'cause I know the sun is somewhere shinin'
Sorta like some clear diamonds
I hardly see my moms, but she know her son is somewhere grindin'
Some where rhymin', or somewhere climbin'

Out of a pottable 760, inclasable very sticky
Wit a handgun, to send these cowards to Heaven quickly
I ain't pussy, so I won't allow you to ever dick me
I know these grease balls, wonder how could they ever stick me

But I move, like the President through town
Wit stones the size of earrings, in my Presidential crown
I put hollows from the Desert into clowns, 'cause the cometary
Is where most of the dudes, that are hesitant are found

So I take the time, of whatever the bench throws
The 4BM put down, in a seventy-two inch hole
Mean while getting adapted, to the fame has be hectic
But I'm fucking like I'm tryna take down Chamberlain's record

And the girls more than like you, when you running around
Doing world tours like Michael, but girl's sure don't like you
You going on like thirty-six, flowin' on some berry mix
The little money you get, you blowing on them dirty chicks

Tryna look young, so you throwing on the jersey quick
I'm on my second V-12, you going on ya thirty-six
You can look at this rider, and see I'm on the come-up
'Cause I pass the hitch-hikers, like I don't see 'em with they thumb up

I just turn the system up and keep boppin'
I never get, where I'm tryna go, if a nigga keep stoppin'
And I tell the cops, this joint is for protection
Don't they see when I come through

How these people point in my direction
That's why I poke out my jeans
Like my joint with a erection
Till I'm in a joint made for correction
And right now, the way rapper bi'ness spread
It wouldn't even surprise me
If one of these rappers is a Fed, nigga

Since I'm in the position to get rich, I'ma get it
Whether it come from rapping on blocks, flippin' and pitchin'
And fuck the stove, and the kitchen where I cook and prepare it
Nigga you know and don't try to act like the truth ain't apparent

I'm on a mission to get richer, it's as simple as that
I make it obvious, when I pick up a pencil and rap
Like a .40 Cal, spittin' on instrumentals I clap
And these verses, are like the hollow point I sent through yo back

I get you murdered if I think you a rat
'Cause if you don't show loyalty
Then that show me where ya principles at
And you don't know how much I been through, in fact

I never did like you, I ain't even gon' pretend wit you cats
And I'm the nicest, I ain't gotta say it twice and repeat it
I'm a lyrical genius, I never been beated, defeated
I'ma draw my weapon and squeeze it, you better believe it

Leave you parapaligic, I demand respect and I mean it
My Desert's the meanest, you probably dead if you seen it
Or spored out somewhere sick, you get red on the cement
And I blow off ya head for no reason and just when I'm leavin'
You don't know me ya owe me homie
But the spread make us even, blow

And the bad part about it is man
I'm only twenty years old man
And I'm just havin' fun
Man I ain't even tryin' man

Desert Storm's youngest and in charge man
Paul Cain, man
Yo Fab man, you ain't even gotta go hard man
I got these niggas man

Clue, holla at cha boy, Skatin' Dolla
Duro, it's our year man
Desert Storm, we gon' kill niggas man
You already know what it is it's a ho'cide man
Stop, "Street Dreamin"

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Faboloso - Lyrics - More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: Faboloso
Album: More Street Dreams 2: The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): P Cain, Ken Ifill, Robert Kelly, J Budden, Joseph Cartagena, John David Jackson, Ernesto Shaw

Lyric:
Haha, uh, uh, uh
Uh huh uh, uh, uh, uh huh uh
Uh, uh, uh huh uh, uh, uh

Mira, allow me to introduce myself, I'm known as Faboloso
When it's time to slide, I'm known to grab the most hoes
When I climb inside, they known to grab me close though
(Yeah)

When it's time to ride, I'm known to grab the toast though
By the expression on them hotties' grills
(Uh uh)
I can tell that wanna holla at somebody real
(What up)
And I'm usually looking for somebody skilled
(Yeah)
Enough to make a nigga scream, "Ayayayo"

Niggas get mad, 'cause I may slay they hoe
But I don't wanna let these AK strays go
Stop face fightin' me, like ya face frighten me
Besides, what I need wit another case fightin' me

Nigga what I need is a ounce of good chronic
(Yeah)
Unbelievable amounts of hypnotic
(Yeah)
A shorty wit a ass that bounce like hydraulics
(Yeah)
And a nigga is straighter than six o'clock
(Yeah)

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Fire (Remix) - Lyrics - More Street Dreams Pt. 2 : The Mixtape - Fabolous

Title: Fire (Remix)
Album: More Street Dreams Pt. 2 : The Mixtape
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): Joseph Anthony Budden, Melvin Glover, Nathaniel Glover, Al Jr Mclaran, Eddie Morris, Frank Ski, Justin Gregory Smith, Trevor Smith, Robert Keith Wiggins, Guy Todd Williams

Lyric:
Let me just make this statement
Loud and clear, Jersey's here
Hey, Ja, Joey
Triangle offense do it like

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Maybe it's the dipped deuces, the twin Jesuses
With diamonds in them, that's clear they break gooses
Maybe 'cause I'm in they roofless or the Hypno I put in they juices
I'm the "Joe Millionaire" of rap and one of these chicks
Is gonna get picked and gonna get dicked
I'm all that and then some, y'all cats have been bums
That's pocket change, you call that an income?

Tell the way I walk that I'm doin' my thing
A lot a niggaz talk but ain't doin' a thing
Whatever come in the fall, I do in the spring
See, I told y'all I'm doin' my thing
And I'm winnin' by a landslide, damn right
Don't you see the way they point at this man's ride?
Now, look at here, I took it there
I'ma make this statement loud and clear, Brooklyn's here

That fire
Problems in the club, reach for that snub
Look dog, it's on fire
That's when you turn it up, you wanna burn it up
Come deal with them riders
Small one on my hip, when you hear the clip
You got to see fire
When it all hits the wire, we gonna light it on fire

We gonna light it on fire
We gonna light it on fire
We gonna light it on fire
We gonna light it on fire

Here with the white and the Canary cross
Bracelets to match, diamonds clear of floss
Convertible hard top in a Carrera Porsche
I'm young but I'm damn near a boss
And of course your boy ride with a thing in the stash box
Quick to hit the button, even quicker to blast shots
Nobody gonna eat, 'less we see chips
This not even funny, not the way we freak chicks

My waiters make ladies see sick
I'm "So So Def" like a J.D. remix
I got enough whips to keep switchin' up flavors
Drafted outta high school, straight into the majors
These haters, fake smiles, but they hardly like me
They hate to see me in a party icy
Clean white T, sippin' on Bacardi lightly
Suede low cut Force One caramel nightly

That fire
Problems in the club, reach for that snub
Look dog, it's on fire
That's when you turn it up, you wanna burn it up
Come deal with them riders
Small one on my hip, when you hear the clip
You got to see fire
When it all hits the wire, we gonna light it on fire

We gonna light it on fire

I got a ear for your amp it up with Jersey's answer
The chancellor standin' up for ten minutes
Man, it's tough plan, plan that's what the camma does
And Jam's son it's the new King, done with the cameras
You pop lip like you got shit
That's a minor congestion, you not sick
Now you wanna call names like Tupac did
Home boy here's a few glock clips

Still Junior like Lou Gossett, Joey, right back on
Overcharge New York to cut the lights back on
Before Bloomberg to come get me all
I send the goons that make the bad things happen in city hall
All, K's spray cats, we don't play that
She allowed to sway, why don't you say that?
Can't stop, won't stop, shots heard, one shot, gun shot
Make your lungs stop, breathe easy

That fire
Problems in the club, reach for that snub
Look dog, it's on fire
That's when you turn it up, you wanna burn it up
Come deal with them riders
Small one on my hip, when you hear the clip
You got to see fire
When it all hits the wire, we gonna light it on fire

We gonna light it on fire
We gonna light it on fire
We gonna light it on fire
We gonna light it on fire

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

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