Upcoming Concerts for Fabolous
Featured In
Top Songs By Fabolous
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Fabolous
Vocals
Ja Rule
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ernesto Shaw
Songwriter
Kenneth Ifill
Songwriter
Jeffrey Atkins
Songwriter
John David Jackson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Merlin Bobb
Executive Producer
Duro
Mixing Engineer
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Tom Coyne
Mastering Engineer
Brian Gardner
Engineer
DJ Clue
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
We tryna kill these ****
[Verse 2]
Yo
We in the door now
Holla
Rule, ****
With the F A B O, ha ha
Yeah
Cluemanatti
Holla back, ****
Irv Gotti, Murder Inc.
Run 'em down, ****
[Verse 3]
Load the fo' fo' up, I'm the reason the price of raw go up
Jump out of the Lambo and the doors go up
Hit you and your ho up from the torso up
Leave y'all there till the coroner or the law show up
I'm that ****, they say performin' so the whores show up
Why cop? I rob you, ice your Roll up
I pop bottles, ain't no need for no cup
Roll the pure 'dro up, stroll the floor tore up
The difference 'tween Fab and y'all after I pick a auto up
Every month I ain't gotta give more dough up
Fuckin' with this, your body wash up when the shore slow up
I have it when yo' kid's see-saw go up, a C4 blow up
Check these diamonds, no flaws show up
My **** clap at parties, Shooter shows up
What y'all know 'bout head till a chick jaws swole up?
Goin' gold minutes after the gates, some stores go up
Y'all know who done it now, few hundred miles
Then with shoes on it now, it's like a few hundred thou'
When we run up, it's guns, two stomach style
Got a tooth on it now, ****, who want it? Blow
[Verse 4]
Ride for this, where my **** at?
Get high to this, where y'all at?
Die for this, throw guns up
To the sky for this, where y'all at?
Ride for this, where my **** at?
Get high to this, where y'all at?
Die for this, throw guns up
To the sky for this, where y'all at?
[Verse 5]
Yo, y'all must wanna die from the **** you testify against
Fabolous make bail before they identify the prints
Swing by events in the buggy eye with tints
Sittin' on nineteens, gun stash by the vents
**** is lookin' at the chain 'cause they eyes are squint
I pull up, pull out, pull back, them guys will sprint
Last **** that talked slick ain't been replyin' since
Got a deal, no sellin', been supplyin' since
We leave **** on the ground like tire prints
Weed that'll make ya eyes look bent just by the scent
These **** don't believe, then they gon' die convinced
Once I present the four fifth, why comment?
I'm the type you tell your dame 'bout
Push a fellow brain out
Leave 'em in front of the spot that they sell cocaine out
One single, had to tint the yellow Range out
Everybody runnin' up, tryna spell the name out
[Verse 6]
Ride for this, where my **** at?
Get high to this, where y'all at?
Die for this, throw guns up
To the sky for this, where y'all at?
Ride for this, where my **** at?
Get high to this, where y'all at?
Die for this, throw guns up
To the sky for this, where y'all at?
Written by: Ernesto Shaw, John Jackson, Kenneth Ifill