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Fes Taylor
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On Grind
[Fes Taylor] I said, matter of fact, Cadillac, fuck an Ac' You on some Pharrel shit, you wearing trucker hats And how you fit a stack inside of your tight jeans Pocket full of green and chain mean, call it ice cream Sleep all day, party, play the night scene You front on my niggas, homey that's a nice dream I mean a nightmare, and we don't fight fair We'll jump a nigga right out his Nike Air's The mall crib, sit on the terrace and write there View of the projects, I spend my life here Bled on the corner, I take the head of informers Put 'em on lightpoles, after the dice rolls Took a one year break, I'm still nice, though I was buying grams at a '94 price, whoa Two albums done, bout to throw two mixtapes out Two days apart, just to break the charts While you was home waiting for a record deal I'm in the streets, trapped in, making record deals So it's easy to me, I just laugh at you niggas Trying so hard to feel us, steel last
[Chorus 4X: Fes Taylor] Money on my mind (mind) Money on my mind (mind) Money on my mind (homey, I'm on my grind I'm getting paper, nigga, and you a hater, nigga)
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