FES TAYLOR


Dum Out Boys Lyrics

[Chorus x3: Desert Eagle sample (Fes Taylor)]
You will never know how it feel, when them things hit
You won't even hear it coming (dum out, dum out)
You will never know how it feel, when them things hit
You won't even hear it coming (dum out, dum out)

[Fes Taylor:]
I put the bullets in, and cock the hammer back
And when the cannon clap, nothing like a fan that clap
You won't jam or clap, click click blap
Blow a nigga off the map like a nuclear attact
I shit on 'em like, duke be on the track
And have fans fiended out like Pookie on crack, nigga
New Jack City, write it to Carter
Just like my father, taught me squeeze.38 revolvers
That he used to give a little kid Budweiser
I was young wise than the dudes twice my age
I washed the dice play, the same niggas get
Killed over games, nothing like spades, we don't like lames
Precise aim, we the head hunters
Dreams of the feds coming, indictments, damn
Money on your head want it, same Hill
Used to sled on it, niggas bled on it, poke ya things

[Chorus x2]

[Fes Taylor:]
It's like the power of a dollar bill, I pump powder in crills
My niggas battle still, try to get out the Hill
f**k it you pay me, sware they won't play me
You want it with who? Yeah, nigga, say he
Since age 3, eighties drove me crazy
Watch the crack babies pull, pops gone, we in state greens
Block like Dawn of the Dead, sever his head
f**k it, kept my family fled, I was bred
To get bread, like benches in parks, my niggas is dark
I figure my heart, take me to the top of the charts
Roll on dudes like shopping carts, tear the whole block apart
Just so we can rebuild like chopping parts
Got alotta paper, like a cottage cheese
So you can meet the baker, I mix it in between

[Chorus x2]

[Fes Taylor:]
Overseas money, real good
So I holla at the homeys like Suge
It's Death Row, nothing to lose, feeling like Pac
When he got shot, blood in my lungs, and my chest cold
I guess so, child had the best flow
Fes blow once my neck glow with begets though
Presto, nothing I'd expect tho
So sick, I should get a check, yo, heck no
The Benz or the Lexo, M's like I play for the Expos
What a damn retro, sex so, still respect hoes
Treat my new bitch like my ex ho, let's go
Ho, I was throwing blows at my shows like
I was in the ring with Riddick Bowe
Hang like the balls when my dick soft
Jeans that I just brought, worth what ya whip toss

[Chorus x2]

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Record Label(s): 2015 Chambermusik Special Products

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