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The Recipe
Fes Taylor
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The Recipe Lyrics

[Intro: Fes Taylor (Hue Hefna)]
Yeah, yeah (J.R.) Yeah, yeah, uh-huh
It's Get Fresh right here, nahmean?
Top Guns, E.S.G.

[Fes Taylor:]
Aiyo, I hear people talkin' like I was in the grave
Like my career was dead and I ain't get paid (picture that)
See, I sold over twenty on "Moneta" back in 2K
Did about ten on "Warning", that was okay
I came back with "What I Got to Lose? " just to prove
I could move, no promotions, with an indy label, dude
We dropped M-A-S-H, LIS got bagged
Night when we left for the tour, I was home packin' my bags
Paid Murphy five grand for the same shit of legal aid
Could've got him on the stand, I don't understand
So I'm fed up, Staten Island vs. the industry, hit the street
Just to show 'em I could drop a CD every week (sold out)
Now it's "Taylor Made", spins on my page
Like the ones there on my waves
Same jewelry on my pictures, wear it on stage (I just dropped that)
To get through the door, I swear it, I'll spray
Heaven on Earth, make me a promise, take care of the game

[Chorus x2: Hue Hefna]
Look, man, I'm comin' at this bullshit industry
Niggaz wanna be me but can't get the recipe
f*ck DJ's, A & R's and all
Y'all should've "Gave Me the Light" like I was Sean Paul

[Hue Hefna:]
I done sold weed, X, crack, coke, dope, no joke
Hammer to the industry and blast my promotin'
Blast at you old folks, I'm fast on you slow pokes
The General, run up in ya lab with the fo'-fo'
Eenie meanie mienie moe, meet a label with the chrome
Never try to jerk me, put a hollow in ya dome
Guess I had to stay on the nice corner
Hyped up, 2003, man, I thought I was Icewater
Whoever tryin' to hold the door on me, better slam it
Street credibility on Access Granted
What happened to my clip, dog? This bitch got me pissed off
Signed the release papers, got me feelin' ripped off
Plot got me tipped off, had to let the fifth off
You f*cked up in the hood, I still got the nicks, dog
Twenties of haze, I'm out to get paid
I'm like J-Kwon, dog, my hammers lift and wave
Shit, these days is grown for a kid my age
Seen more shit than ya pops did in '88
Where players play, Jesus, Amazing Grace
Hue Hef, Lot-a-Nerv and Fes Taylor the Great
And from 106 & Park heard a lot of smart remarks
Like "Hefna fallin' off from all and all"
Artist from the heart, a little gash 'til ya break, get merked
And Jim Jones, I swear, had to take him to church, literally

[Chorus x2]

Things ain't the same, stress, I could feel it in my veins
I needed to get away, that's just straight playin'
I'm tired of bein' down in the bottom with the rats
Where they'll get you for ya cheese, gotta watch for the sticky traps
In fact, that's the reason why I rap
That better than pullin' a trigger, the result of a nigga bein' flat
Y'all ain't been toe-to-toe in due time
f*ck yeah, I'm tired of waitin' on my shine
I done start up my six, got retarded up by ten
Five years late again, Def Jam is interested
And I'm hot cause I'm livin' and givin' my all, spittin' it
Just for record executives to tell me they're not diggin' it
Dog, can't believe my ears, my soul, my pride
I'm sorry, them puttin' the hunt again
I can't, I won't, say can't, say won't
I'm a Saddam these niggaz, noose, hang 'em from they throat

[Chorus x2]

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these lyrics are submitted by kaan
Record Label(s): 2015 Chambermusik Special Products
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