Hands In The Air The Movie Lyrics

[Intro: Fes Taylor]
Two 4 War/Divine Films presents Hands in the Air
(Yo, Taylor, what up, my baby? And how ya?)
Just came back from Nebraska and shit
(I ain't seen you in a minute, I been in the studios and shit
You worked out hard and shit, right?) Yea, yea
(I ain't heard you spit nothing in a minute though, kid
Yo, yo, lemme get some new shit, kid, right now
We gotta get some new shit from you) I don't know
(Right now, baby, haha, I know you got some shit for me, man
This ya boy, baby)

[Fes Taylor:]
2 Fly, baby, they love it when I say it
Still thugging when I play it
And fucking with the greatest latest apparrel, my favorite avenues
Weigh it and bag it, see how fast this package move
Piff, blow a sack or two, rap in the booth
Then play the shit loud back in the Coupe
I'm the artist that wouldn't give up, hardest
I went from apartments, to big trucks at real estate auctions
Caution, crossing me, is like abortions
Still in the Porsches, making 'em nauseous
Wrist like a faucet, mix it with frosted
Taylor, say I'm the truth, still different than all them
Them niggz riffing, I call 'em a bunch of bitches
If you see me balling, all my niggaz got lunch dishes
I wouldn't munch delicious, and word to everything
I would've beat hoops if the rumors wasn't still pending

[Interlude: Fes Taylor]
Yo, yo, that shit was crazy, son, you did
That shit was wild, that shit was fire, dude
I really like that shit, b, yo, you be spitting that shit, kid
I like that shit, b (yo, hold up, who the fuck is that over there?
Yo, hold up, one second, just being down for kid, just telling you, nigga
Yo, ha, hold on, hold on, I'm telling these bitches)

[Chorus x2: Fes Taylor]
See, I'm a fly dude, see me ride through
I'm feeling you mami, your hips and your thighs too
How are you? You looking like a candy store girl
I'm just trying to browse through, how that sound to you?

[Fes Taylor:]
Enough about me, let's talk about you
See if you open the door when I walk around too
The other side of the car on some Bronx Tale shit
See, I'm living like Sunny or them Barksdale kids
Pardon if I act like you wearing a wire
I beat the, checking me out, stare at my attire
I'm flier than the birds over telephones wires
Niggaz telling I got birds in from of Judge Myers
Suppliers and buyers, riders, you divide 'em
Multiply with CD's, now they wanna sign 'em
I've seen a lot of little me's, I don't be around 'em
They try to hate on the kid, I don't even clown 'em
The sound of them is like silence to my ears
Most of the bullshit they saying I don't even hear
Crib out in N.C., I ain't even there
Spend my weekends, Miami, laying on the beach, share
While she speech hares, she said "Lemme speak here"
Gotta speak clear, put ya hands in the air

[Outro: Fes Taylor]
Yo, what the fuck? What the fuck?
What the fuck type of shit is this?
(Yo, hold up, you put ya gun down, man)
Nah, fuck that, the fuck you wan' play me like that, man?
Niggaz is bugging, I'm out of here, man
What type of shit is this, b?
This shit? Hell yea, you fucking bitch
The fuck kinda shit is this?
You smoking weed and shit... (yo fuck that bitch)
I don't even wanna believe this shit (yo that bitch a cop) [gunshot]

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