Artist: Fiend Album: The Addiction Song: That's What U Want Typed by: Lil Hustle (*talking*) Yeah, Cooler B, Untouchable Beeno, Kevin Baily, I love being a survivor feel me Yeah that new Fiend shit, get with me Papa Jones T, MH [Fiend] I started out, the baddest motherfucker alive Now for my spot, all these lil' niggaz want me to die Unlike telephones, can't kill my connects In these streets on the sets, in your hood in these 'jects It's the heart of the lion, that make me cock my shit and get to firing I'm a survivor, if you get to classifying Blood on my sneakers, niggaz moving drugs from the people Whenever I was spoon cooking, like Anitas What you need cheebah reefer, or nigga seekers Got wolves that'll kill they own, if the thicker sweeter Black crack in the beaker, ain't no cock but keep a heater Most are throw aways, snitch are relievers This is where we at, and I suggest you know your environment Cause soon as you exhale smoke, that you can die in it And my heart, got some'ing that yours lack Plus a hundred different guns on the rack, yeah [Chorus] That's what you want, my gun in your face your neck in a brace Your life erased, from that new thang up out that case That's what you want, my gun in your face your neck in a brace Your life erased, from that new thang up out that case That's what you want, my gun in your face your neck in a brace Your life erased, from that new thang up out that case That's what happens, when you playing round Playing round, then your ass gon' be staying round [Fiend] Some call it, murder by numbers I saw it that's what happen when you slumber, never encounter a New Orleans summer The city that care forgotten, like New York's apple where it's rotten Where there's plenty plotting, rifles stay restocked in Where the junkies score the bass, and rocks in Protect yourself, you shooting three's like John Stockton And everybody temperamental, off these instrumentals Cross the line, and your life's the incidentals And I know that the streets ain't safe, and I don't wanna be a goner But he bragging on three hundred pounds, of that California This is my life, and my surroundings Read between the lines, and think we clowning [Chorus] [Fiend] Shotgun shells, yells of smells of burnt flesh Passing out, from the sight of the mess It ain't new to me, most of these visuals glued to me Nothing movie theater, or news to me Random do I cry on a lost life, whether she slain from a knife Begging and screaming forgiveness, to Christ It's trifling when I close my eyes, expose and roll the 4-5 And watch a man, slow die Get your profits pack your rockets, count your cheddar Be bout whatever, don't be caught without your metal Cause when it came from concrete, I be damned if some how gon' get me Return to find, snap your bone grizzly yeah [Chorus - 2x]