Fes Taylor - Eyes Wide Shut Lyrics

[Hue Hefna:]
These niggas must be dreaming, thinking they gon' stop my shine
I pop my nine, sweetie, it's a lullabye
Bum nigga, he done stole my pack, why
F*ck a fiend, your little schemes only mean you be smoking crack
It's really nothing cause I'm holding stacks
Everything I accomplish, and you fiending for a taste of that
I put on like Jeezy, I done made bread
Off the carter, nigga, more than three times like Weezy
I been a star since 9, on TV
I done moved up on the eastside like Weasie
Jefferson the block I'm from, and I moved to the Hill
I got a steel and I pop my gun
Nigga, one pop, two pop, three shot you dead
Your family tellin', they gon' have me in the feds

[Chorus x4: Air Supply "Sweet Dreams" sample w/ ad-libs]
Close your eyes
I want to ride the skies
In my sweet dreams

[D.C.:]
I said D.C., I keep it official, ya'll niggas is cake
Soft on the outside, sweet in the middle
My niggas outside deep with they pistols at any mention of beef
We in the streets, til you sleep where the fish do
And you don't wanna beef with ya man Donnie
Cause Donnie's not a man, see I'm a beast in a man's body
That piece in my hand'll probably leave only a piece of your man's body
Laying in the streets of the damn lobby, you can't stop
The hands rocky, the wrist dude is igloo
The necklace like it was just dipped in crystal
The kid smooth but I get Ravishing Rick Rude
And faggots get to acting, get 'em clapped with a big tool
Kids kidnapped from the kids school, probably think I'm kidding
Find the kids, giftwrapped by the big pool
I'm big news like Christopher Wallace, you know that big dude
And French cool, addicted to dollars, that's how the kid move

[Chorus x4]

[Fes Taylor:]
I said you ain't even half a man, my block similar to Pakistan
Clap your man, you be up in half a gram
Scram, you ain't getting no money, don't even talk to me
I'm getting paper til the streets put chalk to me
New York with me, police bitches call 'em Miss Piggy
F*ck 'em and leave 'em, ma, it's just a quickie
Made a dance to my song, call it the Rice Krispie
Snap, crackle & pop, my hood Vice City
Nah, Vietnam, so I hold firearms like the Vietkong
Niggas wanna be the don
King of the game, last CD, King of Hearts
My flow like a tsunami, nigga bring the ark
Fes Taylor, last seen in the biz
I'm waiting for a bailout, you see me in the pens
Bang with the D's, shit I'd rather be a dead man
For he trap me again in the back of that red van

[Chorus x4]