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"G Shit" lyrics by FES TAYLOR
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"G Shit"
[feat. Mr. Prezident, Shyheim]


[Fes Taylor:]
I think I'm losing my fucking mind, I grind
For the purpose to get better, feel worse, when it's more cheddar
It's more problems, more bottles of Grey Goose
Diamonds in the Jesus, more violence than a KKK group
Taylor Made boots, you won't find these anymore
Only second pair, my son size kiddy wear
Shootouts, knife fights, nigga, I was really there
Port Richmond Avenue, niggas try to kill me there
I was in the hospital, my niggas brought millies there
Ya'll really show me who really care
For that, I never turn my back, none of my niggas
So you gon' die, pull a gun on my niggas
Any one of my niggas, triggers is clutching
And finger fucking, he snitching, he kick the bucket
Quicker than KFC stuffing
Chicken hearted niggas ain't from the same litter
I survived in this game, hell no, I ain't a quitter

[Chorus x2: Fes Taylor]
I'm a muthafucking G, nigga
I bang in the hood
Son, that's why my shit bang in the hood
Like any block avenue say that I'm good
Niggas beef, you gon' spray 'em if you could

[Mr. Prezident:]
I walk around like I'm hot shit, rock wrists, cop fifth
Look I'm fire, you hot piss, I pop six
He a pussy, his face on a hot spit
Call him my soda, he about to get his top twist
I will not miss, S.I., I got this
We gon' get it popping like juice when you fry fish
I'm on my shit, had to take the king route
Nigga disrespect me, I'm a try to blow his brains out
Barrel shoot flames out, ya'll been lead astray
This niggas' ass say pussy on his resume
I give it to him all up in his head and face
He ain't even high but I can make his ass levate
I'm seeing extra cake, front lines, squeezing shots
Fold his ass up, you would think he was a pizza box
If I clap at cha, it's a wrap for ya
They gon' have to get your face up with a spatula

[Chorus x2]

[Shyheim:]
You don't wanna violate me, I take everything personal
Pussy, I shove you back in the pussy that birthed you
This is me everyday, I don't go to rehearsals
I smack you with this nine, and spin you round in a circle
My bank account numbers, look like it's your social
You on a mixtape scene, but your ass still local
Try and G check me? You should be glad I ain't poke you
Nigga, you think you slick, trynna get me promote you
But I'm hip to the game, and that move so old school
You remind me of the old dudes, some bottle of Sisco
Matter fact, you remind me of a blonder Sisqo
I'm like the Yae area, you San Francisco
Shy, bout that dollar like that 99 cent store
Is your life insured? You best to make sure
Originally came for peace, but prepare for war
Where no talk at, muthafucking all and I rep that

[Chorus x2]

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