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"Paper Rite" lyrics by FES TAYLOR
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"Paper Rite"
[feat. Dubs, T-Bird (4) , Wonder]


[Fes Taylor:]
They like, who next in the throne, like I ain't runner up
Wait, June-July, bout to heat the summer up
Never shook a nigga hand I ain't like, shit
Or a nigga I disliked and I ain't start a fight with
Cheddar cheese, get through better V's
Like wifey only person with a second set of keys
You fed up, please, do something about it
I'm a paper chaser, you can tell by my outfit
They hating what you making, from the shit that you came from
Probably wish Gil the worse, hope a grave come
Moms birthed the man, my dad ain't raise no bitch
You push me, it be some Waco shit
Especially if my cake go low, I'm getting pesos though
It get you popped if I say so, yo
Niggas want war, broad daylight
G street, another nigga dead by the corner store

[Chorus x2: Fes Taylor]
I'm just out here trynna get my paper right
The way you living wrong, I'm just trying to make it right
Life is a gamble, blow before you shake the dice
Show you how to get it, you should take advice

[T-Bird:]
I don't give a fuck who you are, or you wan' come and get
If I'm not the type of nigga that you can have fun with
Ya'll think about broads when I'm thinking bout money clips
I'm a ghetto entrepeneur, and I'm harder than law
I'm the truth, I'm what the real niggas is waiting for
All of this beefing, and bitches make it hot in the kitchen
Hustling is in my blood, it's sorta like a tradition
And I ain't have no pot to piss in, on the block and it's pitching
I carry alot of tissue when I flow I be shitting
I'm a hot boy, and ain't no way you can stop it
I R. Kelly your ass, you get trapped in the closet
Labels that didn't want me, now that I'm hot, they all on me
And they all phony, they was acting like they was all for me
I'm the equivalent to rock entertainment
Ain't no half stepping, plus I ain't no joke when I aim
I was built for this game, rappers that got killed in this game

[Chorus x2]

[Wonder (Dubs):]
I hop in the booth and jump all over the track
(Tell you the truth, them W.G. niggas back)
The lord of the lyrics (the phantom of flows
Better fireproof the studio) On stage we slaughtering shows
Hats off to you Dub (I tip my hat to get)
Brothers from another mother, still born to connect
(This beat needed a pioneer, so we volunteered
Our cyphers a tight circle, you won't find a square)
Rip the circle and form a triangle
Three point attack you get hit from all angles
(A three fifty seven's my angel
A trey pound general that's what I'm labeled)
Life's a gamble, everybody running like scramble
Fuck with my paper you will get cancelled
(Can none of ya'll handle, we staging up vandals
Salute me soldier, or get smacked by the anvil)

[Chorus x2]

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