Artist: The Warriors Album: M*A*S*H Song: Run Wit the Wolves Typed by: Tha Masta [Fes Taylor] When the wolves come out, that's when the hood dumb out It's like, you escape from jail, if you could run out Prison Break, riot starters, pirates with revolvers Sammy the Bull ass nigga, I silence a mobster You talking too much, lips move faster than words Back in the days, eyes good, snatching a purse Beef, ratchet or verse, flow matching my verse Front on Fes, you asking for dirt and passage in church God bless the child in the penal, wild I emerged from the Earth, with a crocodile smile Ready to snap like bear traps, '98, only wore Air Max Every rap that I spit is like Fear Fact' So pull a chair back, have seat in the presence of greatness Featerweights scared to face this, heavyweight shit Every state hit, working the graveshift We try and break the chains like on a slaveship [Chorus: girl (Fes Taylor) {man}] I really wanna run with the wolves (uh-huh) So tell me, can I run with the wolves? (So, let's go) {I know she wanna run with the wolves} (uh-huh) {Cuz she know she gon' have fun with the wolves} (Who You) [Fes Taylor] Aiyo, you haters say shit like my Maybach wack But hear my songs, you wan' play back tracks We treat 'em like, it's the same way we payback rats Money from the streets, we gave back that Big heat, make ya Adact crack The script played at, would crack Homey don't play that, in fact This industry money is real easy to get On some Lounge Mode shit, Season of Da Vick Squeezing 'til the clip empty, I pimp plenty Sip Remi, my man throwing up, spitting Henny Dreaming of pushing a Bently, sitting on 20's Car full of dimes, I'm a star in his prime Jars of the lime, one time, stressing the block Hoes see Versace on ankle, stressing my socks Park Hill, repping the block, weapon on cock I car shop, buy every vet on the lot [Chorus] [Fes Taylor] Yo, Profes is the future, listen when I say it The hood dissing what you playing, you Kidding N Playing Yo, the game is laughing, as long as the fame, is lasting But you broke now, had a little change, what happened? You claimed you had it, what a shame, you rapping Became an addict, to the R&B, lame tactics I write you a song, for a piece of ya budget You'll go platinum when released to the public, ya peoples'll love it I'm Fes Taylor, in the streets, and I'm thugging Guns in the kitchen, pull heat from the oven I'm too hot for B.E.T., M.T.V., but I'm still The Great L.G. From W.P., Two 4 War dot E-N-T It's Staten I-S-L-A-N-D And we be, number one in this rap shit Don't make me clap shit, go back on some Wolf Pack shit [Chorus] [Outro: Fes Taylor] It's Fes Taylor We live from the do what you wanna do tour You might catch us O.T., fucking with Pimp and Kid Bishop Don Juan, you know what the hoes is doing The hoes is rolling with the wolves The wolves got the hoes in the Marriot We got the suite on the top floor It's real serious, you see me with the silk bathrobe Uh-huh, yeah, Fes Taylor Incorporated Sports Illustrated, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...