Lyrics DJ Drama – Feds Takin’ Pictures
Text:
Chorus:
Feds
repeated scratching
takin’ pictures
Young Jeezy:
The Feds takin pictures on me
Nigga’s still snitchin on me (nah)
900 for the sip
What you think I’m smoking homie (haha)
Oh what you think I’m joking homie
Blue rims, yeah the coupes crip walk (woo)
Certified plastic think I’d rather make hits?
Between me and you yeah I’d rather flip bricks
So tell me what’s wrong with glass pots and a scale
Pose for them bitches like the double XL
Willie Da Kid:
Homie we ball til we fall
Magic City we to the mall
Trying to stay out of reach of the long arm of the law
I’m calm like snowfall through preliminary hearings
They indicting niggas for bootlegging and racketeering
Prolly got me on the camera while I’m copin’ out the car lot
I’m coming out the banks, big cred’ with the Karl box’
It’s Willie
My futures bright like a highlighter
They taking pictures cause I’m fly like a skydiver
Chorus
Jim Jones:
JONES!
You ain’t seen money (nope)
220 for Bentley GTC (ballin!)
And the money ain’t a thing like J Dupri (it’s nothing)
When you ballin round the country like the major league (pick a team)
So peace up, A town down (A town down)
Tear your streets up with them A-K rounds (bang bang)
Now whatchu know about that?
I know all about that
3 birds, 3 nights can make a 100 thousands stacks (that weight nigga)
And man they got it on camera (whaat?)
The Feds been watching since the boy touched Atlanta
Rick Ross:
I’m the biggest mobster to ever hit the pop charts
I’m a easy target they know a nigga rock hard
Get a clean check cut slip it in my account
Write ’em out a china white a lil cut’ll wipe ’em out
I ain’t with the rapping boy, I’m puttin in the work
In these niggas with the rapid lay his ass in the church
Get some information for you informants I got the YAY
And I’m selling them cheaper than yesterday so whatchu say?
Chorus
Young Buck:
They snapping while we trapping
Trying to find out what happened
They wanna lock me up before my album go platinum
I took my cell phone and through it
My bank account I blew it
I got to cut my conversations, I donn’t want to do it, but
Who’s that peeping in my window
It ain’t no love they tired of telling on they kinfolk
So if you’ve ever been broke
And turn a penny to a twenty
Let me hear you holla
If you want me come get me
T.I.P.:
Whether you know me as T.I. or you can call me T.I.P.
And know the APD and FBI they talk about the G.I.B.
And they know I be high when I’m in the V.I.P
I’m sure they see me as I fly through the city and that brand new V.I.B.
Young, rich, and famous with a pistol you can call me Chi Ali
But I’m the greatest in Atlanta they be calling me Ali
Chorus
Album
Lil Rob – The Album
