LETRA
Use A− / A+ para ajustar a leituraFuel (Shady Edition) (Feat. GRIP, WESTSIDE BOOGIE)
Fuel (Shady Edition)Smokin' trees, I'm ridin' 'round, come to my side of townLately, it's been goin', goin', goin', goin', goin' down[WESTSIDE BOOGIE:]Come see how heavy it getI done seen way to much stress as a jitDeath in this section was presentwe preppin' for war, so we feel like we better equippedBrodie got demons he keep to his selfprobably won't ever know, 'cause he never gon' snitchWe preppin' for war, so we feel like we better equippedBrodie got demons he keep to his-selfprobably won't ever know, 'cause he never gon' snitchHella resentment from lettin' it sitI say "I got him, " I'm never gon' missI done put way too much prep into thisback on your bumper how I'm wreckin' this bitchI keep on talkin' 'bout healin' that's never gon' happenyou know that I'm steppin' on shitI say the feelin' I get from me killin' a rapperjust show me that Heaven existShootin' 'til ain't nothin' left in the clipshootin' 'til I get respect in this bitchI might just go get a TEC in this bitchI might just go at the ref in this bitchGuessing you think this shit new to me, huh?Guess you ain't know what's fuelin' me, huh?I just had enemies shoot at me, tell mejust what could this industry do to me, huh?Helpin' the hood and the homiesand plus the community think that it's two of me, huh?Know where I go when it's overI run out of gasthey gon' say that they through with me, huh? Aw, shitWhen all this shit gon' get better?Bitches just fuckin' whoeverNigga just sayin' whatever, niggas'gon' fold under pressure, honestly I ain't no betterI had to hop out the hole and got cold as a shoulderI turned my emotion into sweaterI had to garner the power to work on my soulI ain't tryna be broken foreverI see the smoke, and start runnin' into itshawty you losin' is so therapeuticI kinda think that you want it to happengot put in a corner, you forced me to do itYou gotta tell me that bein' a rapperis hangin' with rappers, and I ain't into itI'm with the shit, and I'm ready to prove itwaitin' on Marshall to say I can do itThis shit goin' down, down, down, down, dow-dow-dow—)If I run out of fuel, I won'tWhat the fuck y'all gon' do if I don'tRun out of fuel? (Down, down, down, down, dow-dow—)That scares the fuck out of youLook, I was slept on and left for deadSweat, wept, and bled for a game that barely kept me fedAin't want the fame, just a spec of credNowadays I take a check insteadThe pen been steps aheadIf you mention him, them boys wet the bedGet on a track with GRIPand get knocked out like yo' daddy didWhatever Deebo said to Craig, we can go head to headNiggas play hard on the appAt they mama crib hatin' on bars in a rapFrom niggas that still starve in the trapClap back and it's"GRIP, you're takin' it too far, just relax"These words I discard on the waxShit deeper than the cars and the racksThe fashion and gas, so when a star interactsGot the soul of a field nigga with scars on his backSo pardon me if part of me feel a itch to clickPitch a fit, blitz a bitch, split ya shitGRIP in the kitchen with instant gritsFlick the wrist, they wish he'd miss, he's six for sixGo back through the discog'It's obvious I'm the godliest, yeah, I'm sonnin' y'allI took the summer offJust to let them get they mumbles off about blocksthat they ain't spun at allThe uninvolved underdogSummoned from a drunken slumber to pummel y'allbut they don't wanna brawlThis shit ain't even fun no moreI mean, don't nobody wanna come outsideThey like, "You should do a song with so and soOr maybe such and such, " this shit done, I triedThey must not got it in their arsenal or metacarpalTo pick the pen up and out-ink the manHm, but then again I'm partialIt really took Marshall just for me to get a feature? DamnI know rap's what I started withBut when your target market's lethargic to the bars you spitIt's harder to put your heart in itBut come too far to quit, now I'm on to guitars and shitSo don't find it jarrin' if I switch the whole style upWant the old GRIP? Go get the old albumAny genre, same outcomeI'm on that bitch with a stick like MalcolmBuck, buck, buck, buckBuck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buck-buckIf I run out of fuel, I won'tWhat the fuck y'all gon' do if I don'tRun out of fuel? (Down, down, down, dow-dow-dow-dow—)That scares the fuck out of youI was up to my waist in debt, better yetface and neck, tryna chase a checkSweat, labor for minimal as wages getjust tryna get me a dub like a blank cassette (Yeah)I worked for peanuts 'til the day I met Dreand that gave me a little RaisinetNow nothing is close to disgusting as what I grossedso this must mean what I wrote makes me theIllest rapper there is, was, or ever will beThat's the real reason I still squeezeand I fill these bars with so much vitriolThese voices in my head convince meI bet that Ted Kaczynski'll feel me'Cause I serial kill beats like it's real keysMy peripheral sees everything, you was POVs to rap G-O-DFrom Little Caesars to filled arenasI made it big, word to Lil' Cease"Fuel" remix, so who'll be picked nextwho's name gonna be next up?Notorious B. I. G. 's deathwas the domino effects of 2Pac's murderLike facial tissue, who's card should I clean next? Puff's?'Til he's in police handcuffs, guilty, will he step up?Like gee, never turned himself inwho knows all the murders there'll have beenOr me mixed up, prepare for meto not choose none of my words carefullyI've been comparable to Ivan The TerribleI'll take a paraplegicAnd I'll slam his wheelchair on the cementat physical therapy treatmentThen laugh hystericallythese wimps are like Slim's hair when he bleached itY'all need to lighten up, I give a fuckI don't care in the least bitKiss every square inch of my white rear endI guarantee thatMy elevator's stuck somewherebetween two levels emcee's won't ever seeI spit bars so barbaricallya fuckin' parakeet wouldn't dare repeatI'll never be runnin' out of steam or keroseneIf I run out of fuel, I won'tWhat the fuck y'all gon' do if I don'tRun out of fuel? (Down, down, down, down, dow—)That scares the fuck out of you
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