Fes Taylor - Wolf Pack Anthem Lyrics

[Fes Taylor:]
Aiyo, f*ck whoever snitched on Specs
I hope you get stabbed to death, then you get pissed on next
Puerto Ricans on the fifth floor, got Chuck crib rushed
My little sister doing robbery, they took her in cuffs
Smoking weed at 13, first took me a puff
My older cousin, Boo, son, when he slid me some dust
Yo, my darts like an open wound, dripping with puffs
Real nasty, sippin' some Henny, hittin' a blunt
Pigs harass me, jump out vans, pickin' us up
Like a school bus in the morning when ya kids in the front
If you front, then the Wolves got my back like a napsack
I clap at this fake big dog, fronting fat cat
More like a puppy or kitten, I've been doing this
Since Polo Rugbies with Knights that's British
From a place people like to visit, but they scared to live here
Times it feel impossible, who in here
No I'm not a loser, I got bread, I trick P.T. Cruisers
And G.T. Cougars, this is for my PCP movers
Bray Brand Street shooters, Park Hill crack dealers who chief buddah
Stick up kids who play on the staircase
F*ck a mask, want the rep, so they spray on your bare face
The ratchet make you come out your jacket, but we was taking Jansports
To ever before, just snatching leaf patches
Cause caught my bluff, said hit him so a shot toss
Like Fes what you doing, you said shoot 'em, so I popped off
Did a lot of shit in the past, never got caught
Lucky we ain't doing life, the way the block taught
But stoned is the way of the walk, I hate the pigs
So I eat swine, son, slaying the pork
Barbeque cops, bop if you hard or you not
This is hip hop, I spit it from the heart when I rock
I'm part of the art, just picture the game without Fes
Niggas like J-Kwon, only on, cause we ain't out yet

[Chorus: Fes Taylor]
Aiyo, my niggas don't fight, we just let off them pipes
Catch a body, throw the glock away, yell
Wolf Pack, yeah, Wolf Pack, yeah
Wolf Pack, yeah, Wolf Pack, yeah

[Fes Taylor:]
It's like me vs. the whole planet, and that's the reason I hold cannons
So under pressure, never see the pro panic
I got cuts and scars, but still I f*ck stars
I treat a bitch like the slut you are
We stunting in cars, cost more than most niggas houses
In the hooptie wilding, the housing, the nigga need counseling
Anger management, no remorse when the hammer spit
Three niggas with masks, only thing the camera get
A lane of sticks, linebacker, trynna get my hands on Vick
Catch a rich nigga slipping, cooler than a can of Brisk
I plan the fifth, you please stick, I plead the fifth
Heat seek your whip, bullets with illegal tips
Desert eagle grip, shots make your people snitch
Barrel pointed at you, right behind the regal tents
It's either that, or I bash your dome
Like Cam told Mase, jack, you can come back home
Aiyo, f*ck these niggas fronting like, I ain't the one
Like I won't smack 'em up, then put eye in the son
You die in the slums, my brain fry, high offa drugs
I ride for my dubs, slug leave you lying in blood
Type of nigga cry to the judge, tell the hot boys where you buying them guns
I'm what they try to become
Still they hate on me, true hip hop fans wait for me
I can't eat, I know somebody got a plate for me
Extortion, call it the fresh air fund
Pair of J's or some fresh Air One's, here we come

[Chorus x2]