Fabolous - F You Too
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FABOLOUS


F You Too Lyrics

(feat. Paul Cain)

[Intro - Paul Cain]
Yeah, Desert Storm niggaz, Cain
Ghetto, I got these niggaz man (uh huh)
Clue! (yeah), I'm the first line of defense (yeah)
And I'ma show 'em what that means (yeah)

[Chorus 1 - Paul Cain]
I know these niggaz hoped I wouldn't make it - f**k you
Your hatred only made me wanna cake ya - f**k 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

[Verse 1 - Paul Cain]
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 (nah)
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**k 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 (uh), Street Dreams (yeah) (uh), (yeah)

[Chorus 2 - Fabolous]
I see ya faggot ass schemin - f**k you
Bitch you don't wanna swallow semen - f**k you
No you hate the way I'm "Street Dreamin" - f**k you
That's why I ridin, clappin, wit the .40 Cal screamin - f**k you

[Verse 2 - Fabolous]
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
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, f**ka

[Chorus 2 - 2x]

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Songwriter(s): John Jackson, Ken Ifill, Ernesto Shaw
Copyright: Emi Blackwood Music Inc., Duro Music, No Question Entertainment, Emi April Music Inc., J Brasco, Mr. Manatti Music
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