Fes Taylor T-2 Fly текст песни, слова песни T-2 Fly Fes Taylor
Fes Taylor - T-2 Fly
You ask me how I feel all these years, not having a deal
Fuck it, I'm fine, everything I make is all mines
Nine hundred dollars for a pair of new jeans
Do dirt on the streets, but still I'm too clean
2 Fly, live up the name
Cause, shit that I buy, not close to the same
And I don't wear that, so my son don't wear gap
And I don't do prada, I'm good with some Air Max
I'm reppin' for tact, out in Germany
The hood where I'm from, niggas try to murder me
They don't wanna see a nigga have what I got
Won't see a nigga stressed out, back on the block
How I'm gon' help a nigga, can't help myself
Same dude fucking up my wealth
My ex still calling me bread
And I ain't even calling her for head
I'd rather get money instead
I'm so materialistic, like every day Christmas
So I stay with a pair of crisp kicks
A rich bitch, Rick James in my pics
Go to the store, change if a stain on my shit, shit
I throw 'em away, a scuff on my sneaks
So, I just spilt a drink on my feet
Listen, I don't rock nothing ain't name brand
So I got 'em for 20 in the hood, 35 a bran
I'm ballin', something like a fadeaway
Uh-uh, I don't do lay away
Mama, ain't bout paper than stay away
Head full of horse hair, give her some hay
Hey, my money don't talk fair, so here to say
I don't care if he make it anyway
You talking bullshit, my mind go blank
But if it's money, bench press the world
Try those weights, wait
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