Artist: Fes Taylor f/ Inspectah Deck, T-Bird Album: Fresh Air Fund Song: Shooting Stars Typed by: pneumatic [Chorus: Fes Taylor] My life fucked up, So what I could fix the wrongs Go hard like I spit on this song Look inside myself, I see what I did in the past It's like every time I visit the Ave, I find myself Right back where I started from, Day one Under the clouds, Waiting for the rain to come And no one saw, Nothing but a star come down from the sky And no one saw, Nothing but a star come down from the sky [Fes Taylor] The birth of hip hop re-born, Pass the peacock, Preach on Anything you put me on know I'm a best on Soon as you throw some beats on and he's gone Like Fifty did Camron, These niggas is tampons Losing my patients, Constantly my buttons is pressed See the kids frontin', Nigga I'm fresh, Try to uplift the people But some satisfied we're living less then equal Nigga I tote the desert eagle, Ruffle a nigga's feathers Nothing's forever, Sooner or later nigga it's just you and the maker Will he understand, For the love of money and rubber bands Bitches, Drugs, And contraband, Fly clothes New kicks I buy those, Size ten I try those Up in 5-0's for five days with five hoes Get it all into tariffs, My nigga's our show Rest in peace rose [Chorus] [Inspectah Deck] These niggas want me boxed underground But I'm still here standing motherfuckers, What now You never gonnna take me alive I'm guaranteed to make a way to survive I'm on the block with the foils of caine And if worst come to worst I'll pitch Muslim oil on the train Like Malcolm with the shotty in the window by all means Fiends in the lobby, Open longer then Walgreen's I dreamed it'd be better then this All my G's got cheddah to split, Years from now reminisce how The struggle made me, The hustle changed me And lately I got no friends, These niggas hate me Cause I'm a rider from the Caddys to bikes I'm on my own like Daddy and Mike, Yeah Daddy all right No escaping it, I'm trapped in the life Were your head come un-attached for the price [Chorus] [T-Bird] I aint even a rapper, I'm a hustler with a flow So if rap don't work, Then it's back to sling'n dope And if that don't work, Well I got a mob of niggas that be robbing niggas I'm like K-Slay, I love the drama niggas Slugs squeezed from the hammer, When I squeeze from the trigger I don't even battle no more I just sneeze on niggas Ice froze on the finger, Reason for me leaving it must be the telling season I'm like please don't talk, If you do, You'll find out first hand if Jesus walks I'm so hard body but these streets is soft And I don't hang with pussy niggas that act like they bad Cause hanging around all them pussies started making me mad That's why it's back to my lab and back to my craft Put the mack to your back and leave your back on a slab Still get it eighteen a grisly and sixty a slab Your flow aint adding up you wasn't doing your math [Chorus]