Walk The Line
Fiend
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Lyrics
Say shawty! Fiend we gon' have some fun
Wit dis one ya heard me? Let's do dis
Yo, yo, yo welcome to buck jump town
City in the wild New Orleans, Louisiana
Home of the 504, the shrimp etouffee, and the gumbo
Who me? It's Fiend, Ghetto to F-I-E-N-D, the one that do the shotty
And I am yo host
Along with KLC head number B-Block Bob
He's gonna assist you in the long walk
Better yet the short walk on Canal Street
Canal Street, watch that walk, watch that bone! Alright now
Over there's 11th Canal place, to the right we got the Doubletree
Down the street we got the House of Blues on Decatur
Don't Slip, Don't Trip concert by No Limit, Lil' Booty, and the EMTG
Enjoy yourself, I will now assist back to bein myself, Dick Harris
And here's Fiend
I done cruised the gumbo in my blue '81 C-U-T
Got gas in Hollygrove but I'm headed to the CP3
My nigga Yone got a bag every day, he loves to blow with me
I turned my niggas to chronic and now they want the sko' from me
I got a shorty in the 3rd and that ho sweat the gauzy hard
And all the real niggas know that the Bedouin bones in the St. Bernard
The 35th and New Orleans is where I learned to hold my card
I wore t-shirts and jeans, cause that was all
To survive when they ain't thinkin to fall
Kept my eyes on the money and those that diss, played that breed
Cause over paper I do believe, they will make they own folks bleed
I done peeped your kind before
And I done walked the line before
And if you ain't rollin with us, get the fuck on out the way
I done peeped your squad and I don't
Think ya'll want no trouble from me
I done ran with the hardest and they
Never ever tried they luck with me
I done seen your kind before
And I done walked the line before
And if you ain't rollin with us, get the fuck on out the way
I done walked the hood, everyday got respect and they show me love
Played ball after school, at night we dipped all our drugs
Don't want promote contraband but I don't knock the hustle
Plenty things beside bills that money just keep us with lust for
Don't wanna sell my people dope but somebody gon' get on my sale
I got a cousin want out of jail and I gotta cover these babies tails
I heard a nigga wanna war cause it got to him I fucked his bitch
Ain't that, nobody told him put his mouth all over where I lay my dick
I wanna get along with everybody but that wouldn't make me Fiend
Who that? Mr. Walk-Walk, P.T.I. Jones, two firearms in his jeans
I done peeped your kind before
And I done walked the line before
And if you ain't rollin with us, get the fuck on out the way
I done peeped your squad and I don't
Think ya'll want no trouble from me
I done ran with the hardest and they
Never ever tried they luck with me
I done seen your kind before
And I done walked the line before
And if you ain't rollin with us, get the fuck on out the way
What would I think? They always ask me
Why do I make these kind of beats for
Fiend to bust on just for New Orleans
I say, why not?
And then they always askin me
Why do Fiend always make this type of shit just for New Orleans?
And then I say
Mind yo motherfuckin business, you worryin bout the wrong thang