Text: Fes Taylor. Flight 10304 (T-2 Fly). Shoot Up The Party.

[Fes Taylor:]
Yeah, Staten Island we back
Born up town, Running with the bottle kids
The Moms bounced out to Staten Island, Slid
Kept to shopping at Lids, Buy a few fitteds
Hated by a few critics, But I'm the new shit-ick
By niggas wicked like Ice Cube with it
Like everyday Halloween, You treat'n I ain't trick'n for
Aves to pick in, The Park Hill stick'n
Anything with jewels drip'n, No you fools didn't
Come to my hood, Look'n like food in it
And I don't only walk the walk, I prove in it
You finish like, Empty bottles of brews, Guinness
Knock your teeth out like a true dentist
Coupe tinted, No roof in it
Twenty inch rims spin'n, Look at the waves
Mothers brush ya'll hook up the waves
Music blast at the light, Bitches look
I just look up your wave like

[Chorus x2: Fes Taylor]
Bluck-Bluck-Bluck, We shoot'n up the party
Trouble making niggas got beef with everybody
See we pull up cars and doing pull up spars
We like Jamaican stars, We yelling pull up, Pull up

[Fes Taylor:]
They say, One man can't change a whole continent
So I put an army together so I can concur it
Know they killed Cochran, Cause OJ they couldn't lock him in
So stitch and sew like I'm doctor'n
Buck fifty slashes, Clubs give us access
Kinda like we got V.I.P. passes
Yeah we shining with the Sun when our axis
Like we moving the camera, Snap shot flashes
Back block stashes, Cops still harassing
Knowing we ain t have shit, You was hustle'n aspirin
And now they ready rock that sheet rock
Sell a beat on the block, Lift you out your Reebok's
Welcome home T-Bot, My nigga E Locked
Had around the same time S.E. got
Like Flex dead, Damn, Still fuck with my head
Sometimes wish it was me instead
I should've went with you

[Chorus]

[Outro: Fes Taylor]
Party over nigga, Soon as we come up in this bitch
We shutting the shit the fuck down nigga
Niggas can't get no money out here, Unless we in on it man