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Feds
Nick Grant & Tae Beast
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
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Yeah
Yeah
Uh
I'm a made nigga, got models cleanin' the crib
I'm hair stylin' on 'em, the iron on me, I wig
Feds buggin' your spot, niggas raidin' where you live
You know the stakes high when you makin' it on the strip
I talked to the blind man, he told me what he saw
The deaf nigga told me that he was listenin' to his heart
It's shockin', I ain't hip to the plug, my shit is raw
I been hoppin' out the sockets since Tracee Ellis Ross, ugh
Nasty, I'm repulsive, I'm the grossest
Got the chopper at your do' like a witness from Jehovah
Put my love in the culture, got no love from the culture
Now I dance with the devil at the wedding, saying, "Devotion"
Like my bitches either real ghetto or too famous
She wanna try me, I tell her, "Find a cute angle"
Time tells all, you'll soon find out who's hatin'
Always the ones close, it's never the few strangers
How you livin', nigga?
(Sin is burnin' through my heart, and it's burnin' in my soul)
Bitch, I'm in the building, somebody switch the decor
All the competition get zipped and shipped to the morgue
My auntie used to say, "That baby done been here before"
If the money Nia Long, then I'm tryna go get some more
All these niggas all in yo' business, that ain't business
I watch the dark time turn light, I Aunt Viv it
Nigga, you don't get the credit if your man did it
Yeah, they skatin' when they bored, all them dirty Vans wit' it
No, I'm not the shooter, but trust, I'm forever guarded
Split you down the middle like when labels fuck their artists
Nigga, please, I wanna be Master P
Ain't no limit, I get paid like a athlete
Big business, ho, fuck you if you mad at me
I tell a bitch to get to steppin' like some Kappa feet
Ayy, that's my cue, dawg, I'm too raw
Too hard, from West Chevelle to two-tone
Packin' like a group home
I'm the southern Snoop Dogg
From where you take a life to save a life, keep your Groupon
Never is the truth wrong
I go dumb, it's two blondes
All up in your home, and we don't give a fuck 'bout who home
Everything I write is death to ya, check the tombstone
All you wack rappers took the game to a new low
Nigga, I've been nice with the mic since Kukoč
I'ma flip the game upside down, I found a loophole
The scale don't lie, let's see how much weight your crew hold
Split your Adam's apple if you think life is a fruit bowl
I'm at the tabernacle prayin' for a bulletproof soul
Same nigga, new goals
Bang nigga, too close
Money on Manute Bol
Spot the money like my granny used to spot a loose ho
I feel like Harold Melvin, all niggas need is them Blue Notes
I'm too cold, bitch
Oh, ooh
Said the feds, they watchin' me
Mmm
Oh-oh, oh