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Fes Taylor
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The Chase, Pt. 3
[Fes Taylor] Red ID, population, banned for six months Wound still stitched up, going to get lunch How to get free, spread a little love in the joint After rec, slide off, while the God's off point Hotter than a court bust, sirens going off Inmate missing, my conscience said 'give it up', man, listen Caught me running man, life in jail, hard to understand Feeling like a slave snatched from the motherland But anyway, make a run for it, get across the water I'm good, heard dogs barking, running through the woods Helicopters over me, pictures flashing on the news Saying that I'm young, black, with an attitude Shoot to kill, escaped and considered real dangerous Tried to get away, twice before, back on the same shit Ran into a fast food joint, yoked this dude up Took his new coogie suit, and matching blue chucks Now I need a V, sho' nuff, what did I see? A 2003 Bentley, on twenty-three's Caught 'em at the light, nigga, I'm from Car Jack City Get shot in front of your girl, it won't be pretty Before I peel off, snatch shorty for security Now I got a hostage, ain't trying to be boxed in Pedal to the metal, tires burning the street up Bullshit, police cars, trying to keep up Guilty til proven innocent, cuz I'm black Fuck that, I know one thing, I ain't going back Catch me if you can... arrest me if you can I ain't never seeing the pens, again
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