But you gon fuck tonight

[Verse 2: Fabolous]
Now.. Who's hot? Who's not?
I can take the few shots you've got
I can burn a few knots you've got
I can blow the few spots you've got
But, I chill, I will
Get it to poppin whenever I feel
I still shut it down
And I white and yellow stud it down
Watch them pretty girls strut it 'round
Take the birdies and putt it down
Like Tiger Woods did it, but I'm hood with it
You've never seen a thug look as good with it
And I promise that
Fuck with me, you better move where 'sama's at
You see I'm in here with the white ones on
Tryin to get fucked up 'for the lights come on (let's go)

[Chorus]

"Renegade"
(feat. Paul Cain)

[Intro - Fabolous]
Uh, you think I give a fuck about what these niggas say man
They even talked about Jesus

[Fabolous]
I ain't mad at when it rain, cause I know the sun is somewhere shinin
Sorta like some clear diamonds
I hardly see my moms, but she know her son is somewhere grindin
Some where rhymin, or somewhere climbing
Out of a pottable 760, inclasable very sticky
Wit a handgun, to send these cowards to Heaven quickly
I ain't pussy, so I won't allow you to ever dick me
I know these greaseballs, wonder how could they ever stick me
But I move, like the President through town
Wit stones the size of earrings, in my Presidential crown
I put hollows from the Desert into clowns, cause the cemetary
Is where most of the dudes, that are hesitant are found
So I take the time, of whatever the bench throw
The 4BM put down, in a seventy-two inch hole
Mean while getting adapted, to the fame has be hectic
But I'm fucking like I'm tryna take down Chamberlain's record
And the girls more than like you, when you running run
Doing world tours like Michael, but girl's sure don't like you
You going on like thirty-six, flowin on some berry mix
The little money you get, you blowing on them dirty chicks
Tryna look young, so you throwing on the jersey quick
I'm on my second V-12, you going on ya thirty-six
You can look at this rider, and see I'm on the come-up
Cause I pass the hitch-hikers, like I don't see 'em with they thumb up
I just turn the system up and keep boppin
I never get, where I'm tryna go, if a nigga keep stoppin
And I tell the cops, this joint is for protection
Don't they see when I come through, how these people point in my direction
That's why I poke out my jeans, like my joint with a erection
Till I'm in a joint made for correction
And right now, the way rapper bi'ness spread

It wouldn't even surprise me, if one of these rappers is a Fed, nigga

[Paul Cain]
Since I'm in the position to get rich, I'ma get it
Whether it come from rapping on blocks, flipping and pitching
And fuck the stove, and the kitchen where I cook and prepare it
(Nigga you know) and don't try to act like the truth ain't apparent
I'm on a mission to get richer, it's as simple as that
I make it obvious, when I pick up a pencil and rap
Like a .40 Cal, spittin on instrumentals I clap!
And these verses, are like the hollow point I sent through yo back
I get you murdered if I think you a wrap
Cause if you don't show loyalty, then that show me where ya principles at
And you don't know how much I been through, in fact
I never did like you, I ain't even gon' pretend wit you cats
And I'm the nicest, I ain't gotta say it twice and repeat it
I'm a lyrical genius, I never been beated, defeated
I'ma draw my weapon and squeeze it, you better believe it
Leave you parapaligic, I demand respect and I mean it
My Desert's the meanest, you probably dead if you seen it
Or spored out somewhere sick, you get red on the cement
And I blow off ya head for no reason, and just when I'm leavin

You don't know me ya on me homie, but the spread make us even, BLOAW!

[Outro - Paul Cain]
And the bad part about it is man, haha
I'm only twenty years old man
And I'm just havin fun
Man I ain't even tryin man
Desert Storm's youngest, and in charge man
Paul Cain, man
Yo Fab man, you ain't even gotta go hard man
I got these niggas man
Clue! Holla at cha boy
Skatin Dolla
Duro! it's our year man
Desert Storm, we gon' kill niggas man
You already know what it is
It's a ho'cide man
Stop "Street Dreamin"

"F You Too"
(feat. Paul Cain)

[Intro - Paul Cain]
Yeah, Desert Storm niggaz, Cain
Ghetto, I got these niggaz man (uh huh)
Clue! (yeah), I'm the first line of defense (yeah)
And I'ma show 'em what that means (yeah)

[Chorus 1 - Paul Cain]
I know these niggaz hoped I wouldn't make it - fuck you
Your hatred only made me wanna cake ya - fuck you
Wherever I see you nigga I'ma buck you

And put a hole in your chest that's big enough to drive a truck through

[Verse 1 - Paul Cain]
I bring the drama back where you lives, flatter your wiz
Reload and then point the Mag at your kids
So what I sound remorse, the records I still peep guns on me
But the difference now is only Deserts
If I talk it's gonna be reckless; I'm ready to die
So when I apply pressure, niggaz gon' respect it
Tote guns to rob niggaz, I told 'em to use
And leave enemies of friends that like broken and bruised
They ain't crazy, they just broke and confused; cross me
And they'll be talks of how they found the man smoked on the news
I'ma career crook - they used a mug shot from my graduation picture
And my junior high school yearbook
Paul Cain never appear shook
Yeah I might talk to my enemies but never police (nah)
You wanna converse it better be brief; you ain't gotta say much
Show me the money and the cheddar'll speak
If it ain't involvin bread, I ain't with it
I don't need D's on me, I'm already dodgin Feds
When the shots from the revolver spread
Duck, I don't discriminate, leave CEO's and artists dead
Make slugs a part of his head
Vanish then pop up in a SL double nickel, scarlet red
Fuck you I'm tryna get my cash right
All my niggaz flip birds and blast pipes, addicted to the fast life
Live everyday like my last night; OD'in or X
When I got signed like Len Bias on draft night (yeah)

Niggaz (uh), Street Dreams (yeah) (uh), (yeah)

[Chorus 2 - Fabolous]
I see ya faggot ass schemin - fuck you
Bitch you don't wanna swallow semen - fuck you
No you hate the way I'm "Street Dreamin" - fuck you
That's why I ridin, clappin, wit the .40 Cal screamin - fuck you

[Verse 2 - Fabolous]
When I pulled the 5 out; I kinda expected
For the backstabbers, to be standin behind me, wit they knives out
Then the Range, wit the fins drove in
I wasn't shocked to see my foes, dressed in friends clothin
But - I still pull through the sty; wit handguns
As big as the one, Robocop pulled from his thigh
You prolly heard about the bullets I buy; and how it look like
I'm throwin batteries, when the bullets shoot by
So what, you wear a vest, why would I care
If I aim for ya chest, that be a good idea
Nigga, it's nothing to clap ya; but I'm more worried
Bout the groupie cops, who wanna put they cuffs on a rappa
That's why I'm limpin off wit a freak; and a lawyer
Who woulda got O.J. Simpson off in a week
I could show you how to blow up on ya own; in a Benz
That'll hit a buck! and make the windows go up on they own
Wit a stash box compartment for; a handgun
That make holes the size of peep holes, on apartment doors
My closet look like department stores; and you wonder why
Ya girl's comin home, wit a cigar sip for
Cause I just dump the light Dutch, mash the guts
You won't believe how much ass I touch
Who else struts pass the sluts, and a chain wit so much
Ash and cuts, that it hangs much pass the nuts
That's why I get followed by broads; wit deeper throats
Then the people at the circus, that be swallowin swords
Y'all hopin that the Don fall off; but my money's long enough
To keep shootin ya bank until, ya arms fall off
I'm eatin, and I ain't have to use someone's utinsels
And when you clean as me, you know that every bum is against you
But please don't let someone convince you; to test the kid
And get hit wit slugs as long, as a No. 2 Pencil, fucka

[Chorus 2 - 2x]

Niggaz (uh), Street Dreams (yeah) (uh), (yeah)

[Chorus 2 - Fabolous]
I see ya faggot ass schemin - fuck you
Bitch you don't wanna swallow semen - fuck you
No you hate the way I'm "Street Dreamin" - fuck you
That's why I ridin, clappin, wit the .40 Cal screamin - fuck you

[Verse 2 - Fabolous]
When I pulled the 5 out; I kinda expected
For the backstabbers, to be standin behind me, wit they knives out
Then the Range, wit the fins drove in
I wasn't shocked to see my foes, dressed in friends clothin
But - I still pull through the sty; wit handguns
As big as the one, Robocop pulled from his thigh
You prolly heard about the bullets I buy; and how it look like
I'm throwin batteries, when the bullets shoot by
So what, you wear a vest, why would I care
If I aim for ya chest, that be a good idea
Nigga, it's nothing to clap ya; but I'm more worried
Bout the groupie cops, who wanna put they cuffs on a rappa
That's why I'm limpin off wit a freak; and a lawyer
Who woulda got O.J. Simpson off in a week
I could show you how to blow up on ya own; in a Benz
That'll hit a buck! and make the windows go up on they own
Wit a stash box compartment for; a handgun
That make holes the size of peep holes, on apartment doors
My closet look like department stores; and you wonder why
Ya girl's comin home, wit a cigar sip for
Cause I just dump the light Dutch, mash the guts
You won't believe how much ass I touch
Who else struts pass the sluts, and a chain wit so much
Ash and cuts, that it hangs much pass the nuts
That's why I get followed by broads; wit deeper throats
Then the people at the circus, that be swallowin swords
Y'all hopin that the Don fall off; but my money's long enough
To keep shootin ya bank until, ya arms fall off
I'm eatin, and I ain't have to use someone's utinsels
And when you clean as me, you know that every bum is against you
But please don't let someone convince you; to test the kid
And get hit wit slugs as long, as a No. 2 Pencil, fucka

[Chorus 2 - 2x]

Blastin a (?) get it first, before they put it out, Clue!

Yea, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh

Maybe wouldn't be a million kids wit they faces on containers
If cops pursue the same way they chase us entertainers
In the hood, a few big faces and a chain a-
Get metal in ya mouth like braces and retainers
Even the young bucks be scheming on somebody change
Tryin a sell somebody 'cain, before they even potty trained
You can smooth talk your way into a hottie brain
Have her suckin long enough to leave a nigga body drained
I wasn't taught, I learned from watchin stupid people
That'll run up shootin, in front of a group of people
I lay in a cut, the same way the troopers peep you
Ride up on yer coupe and creep you while you let a groupie deep you
Cuz even if you reppin like a man of skill
You gon' still need a weapon when you layin a deal
One for watch you slippin like you steppin banana pills
Think a nigga ain't gon' pull a weapon cuz you scanned a mil? (what)
I crept in and got handed meals
Now the white and black rides look like salt and pepper on the bannon grill
Think I wouldn't hold a Pepsi in my hand for mils?
You must be fuckin stupid, nigga

"Can't Let You Go (Remix)"

No, no, no, no, no, no, no

Homie, I don't think you know me (No)
And I don't think I know you (No)
But this clip on the 16
You actin' like I can't let them (Shorty!)
I don't think you know me (No)
And I don't think I know you (No)