Artist: The Warriors Album: M*A*S*H Song: Don't Front Typed by: Tha Masta [Intro: Fes Taylor] From Park Hill Ave to Craybran St. Who you know get love like me? (Uh-huh) I take full responsibility Putting this shit back to where the fuck it's s'posed to be [Fes Taylor] Fes Taylor, man I take it back on some Cypress Hill shit, show 'em How to Kill a Man If I'm a ki cocaine, then you're a milligram Butterfly knife, blade spinning like a ceiling fan Damn, I put it down, like a coffin in the dirt A tie and a shirt, niggaz think I'm walking into church But I got meetings with labels, homey, I'm eating at tables With C.E.O.'s, in the office, they made you I paid dues, get smarter as my age grew Lenses in the shades, blue, keep the powder beige too Even if it's China white, cuz my spot move, five hundred dimes a night Still my pockets kinda tight Open a business, you do the math And flown in my homeboys from the hood, make my whole crew the staff Willie rocks, lace mink, chain, make the cops chase me I got a couple workers so I ain't been knocked lately [Chorus: Fes Taylor] You could front on my borough if you want I point the barrel at you punks, leave you cowards in the dumps Staten Island, where the wolves running wild I tell you right now, that I bite, worse than I growl Don't front You could from on my borough if you want I point the barrel at you punks, leave you cowards in the dumps Staten Island, where the wolves running wild I tell you right now, that I bite, worse than I growl [Fes Taylor] I was told, Cash Rules Everything Around the globe Hitting shows, getting dough, by the stones in my lobe Everything that glitters ain't gold, like Canal St. ropes I blow a chocolate brown Dutch, blowing weed smoke You might catch me in Miami on a skiboat Son, I lived the hustler's life, hoping my seed won't Don't put me in a category with the amateurs They told my manager I'm banned from Canada My oppressed record, son, they tried to throw the book at me I'm a crook, look at me, just wanting to juks badly You seen my wolves drooling? You fooling with some niggaz who don't care to see who you shooting Dare me to prove it, haters fear the movement Hip hop, like my new crib, I just moved in I know you feeling music, this is therapeutic Inspired by the revolution, stack a couple million be my resolution [Chorus] [Fes Taylor] Yo, who smoother than me? Go 'head, choose ya MC I pop a 22 like a deuce-deuce of O.E. Yo, homies, pour out liquor, I was a poor ass nigga Nowadays I'm getting more cash quicker Two 4 War sticker, Roman numerals wrote It's hard for you to keep my attention if numbers ain't spoke I hate to trouble you folks, but shit, I gotta eat Acting like I ain't seen meat in a couple of weeks I sat back, watched niggaz get fat They said the Stat fell off? Well, fuck that! Taylor bringing it back, 240 Warrior rap Wolf Pack, greatest hits They stuck off my last joint, wait 'til my latest shit Nothing to say to a snitch But I chipped in a couple of dollars, get him laid in a ditch Listen, I'm rich, bitch, watching David Chappelle On the back of the tour bus, while I'm blazing an L (ya honor) [Chorus] [Outro: Fes Taylor] Don't front, don't front Alright, it's Fes Taylor Incorporated Two 4 War Entertainment You know how we do this Emilio, what's good, my dude? Lon Dini, L.I.S., Killa Mac, Pa Bazil The Milli Family, you know? Don't make me make an example out of one of you niggaz