Nick Fine$$e - Nick's Fury

Shit I'm hotter than paper out of the printer
If you think it's beef
My niggas hopping out the Sprinters
Pulling off in Suburbans
Stomping all on the curb and
Windows tinted
Driving slow when we lurking
The chicken jerking
But niggas got bigger fish to fry
Make sure the pepper lemon, fried hard
No separate dish for fries

All in one
Pour mild sauce on my order
Make billions from some quarters
Read you niggas like Boarders
Stacking paper like some hoarders
Tip ya waitress at Hooters
Who does this game claim as the best
I'm just tryna better myself
Teach my niggas how to move in a room full of sin
Take some beats
Kill them all
Remix them
Kill them again
I'm just in it for the win
Make sure my children are straight
My grandkids gone eat off the fortune that I make today
I just want to make sure that my future is gorgeous
I master the music
Visionary paints the portraits

We artists to the fullest
You can't be called muscle
If you ain't never pull it
Niggas just be talking
Ain't leave nobody stretched
But a nigga life change when they first witness death
They moves alter like matrimony
Never leave the house without the ratchet on him
Keep his head on a swivel
Nickel plated 45
He don't know how to live but he ain't ready to die
So he gone let the bullets fly if any nigga try to press him
The burner in the drawer
Magazines on the dresser
Like Ebony, Jet
Popping pills for the stress
The glock pop
The block hot
Now the whole hoods a mess
I'm talking yellow tape, street sweeper
Machete slicing, meat cleaver
Blood shed, momma tears
Ancestors took the whips
Police they just commandeer the life of my people
Like it's a rite of passage
Slick talker but I can write a passage
That'll impact the masses
A misandrist couldn't exist without the misogynist
I feel like that is obvious
How could you plant your semen and depart from the scene
I guess being a man wasn't part of your dreams

Written by:
Nicholas Stroud

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Songtrust Ave

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