Paul Cain

[Fabolous]
Yeah, uh huh, uh, uh
Ghetto! Oh yeah
Please believe it, believe it please
Uh, Desert Storm, okay, that's right, uh
Street Family, yeah
They call me G-H-E-T-T-O

[DJ Envy - overlapping Fabolous intro]
New Fabolous, Paul Cain, Joe Buddens
This shit's called Grand Theft Audio
C'mon maan!

[Fabolous]
The kid's usually armed
Especially since I put canary jewels in the charm and a mule on my arm (Yeah!)
And find who you fools wanna harm
Make sure ya kids wear a vest underneath they school uniform (C'mon)
The pound slugs look like combos
A couple in the face will make celebrities look like John Doe's (Who dat?)
I'll show ya'll what the X7 look like almost (Yeah)
Private jet interiors that look like condos
Ya security look like Arnold
But he never had so many stitches in his head, they look like cornrows (Uh ugh)
Two long Desert Eag's, four on the chest
It feel like you got no shirt in the Tuscon desert heat
Crib got large screen cinema, garage look similar
To looking in a Dupont registry
I'm assuming you cats spread rumors like that
'Cause you never seen ya moms speak wit a aluminum bat
Ghetto

[Joe Budden]
OK thugs, call the troops, tell them load they slugs (Buddens)
In the closet is the long nose and O.J. gloves
I don't care what type burner ya using
Gangsta it out, let's put the heat down, do some furniture moving
Look, tried and acquitted
Rap suckers, all ya lives I lived it, remember I'm the guy that did it
Who drives the 6's? Dogs, you can't ball out
No matter how much you customize ya Civics
Block work, glock work, give him CPR
(For what?) For trying to play his A-dat in a VCR
Keep on following Scarface, I'm plotting a car chase
Stop! It's Jumpoff wit Desperado's guitar case
I ain't gotta call on hounds (Why?)
When ya guns is like the last Lennox Lewis fight, short on rounds
I'm used to dra-ma, ride wit the tool and hammer
All you young rap dudes is bammers

[Paul Cain]
Don't let me out of my cage, the world ain't ready for Cain
The black talons and the calico confetti ya brain
I rock Lacosta, the kid wit the roaster is back
No top, sitting on 20's opposed to them black
Hang rappers from helicopters, Sosa of rap
I don't talk, I pull toasters, approach ya, and clap
I still hustle coca and crack
Just got in the game and already platinum posters and plaques
I don't write, I speak what I feel
And pop off po's dog, I don't need a reason to kill
I'm like 2 weeks from a deal, like 2 g's from a mil
Right hand, few feet from the steel
They wonder how I flow so strong
'Cause I live what I spit, my smallest hammer is a 44 long
I spit pain rap, when Cain clap, duck for cover
Hot hanger, torch ya girl, and pluck ya mother
Always ready to clash wit titans
And the princesses in my watch look like a flash of lightning
Same box I got for the gun you stash ya ice in
Make niggas sell they soul and cash they life in
Motherfucker!

[DJ Envy]
People's choice
Don't forget Desert Storm
My man Kah, Paul Cain, Fabolous, Joe Buddens
Fat shout
Varcity clothing line
My man James A.D
Desert Storm mixtape Volume 1 Blok Party
You know!

Artist: Fabolous f/ Paul Cain
Album: Street Dreams
Song: Why Wouldn't I


[Fabolous] (Paul Cain)
Yeah, yo Cain (what up nigga)
Why wouldn't these bitches love us nigga?
Why wouldn't these niggas hate us huh?
(Why wouldn't they Fab?)
Yeah, (Desert Storm), uh, yeah, uh

[Fabolous]
Why wouldn't I talk as greasy as cheese steak meat
In a strawberry Range, pie crust piping on the cheesecake seats
I'm known for hittin' women's soft spots
With Princess cut Canaries the size of lemon cough drops

[Paul Cain]
I'm right behind 'em in the Porsche drop
Linen soft top, sick chain with 20 point rocks
Take your bitch, why wouldn't I?
The whip got chrome shoes, cream leather seats with old wooden sides

[Fabolous]
Uh, yeah, what's really poppin', usually boys know
This ghetto superstar with the Bruce Lee-roy glow
Niggas has to hate the outcome (yeah)
Plus I'm in a throwback from the same year they assassinated Malcolm

[Paul Cain]
Make so much ends, I got to find faster ways to count 'em (yeah)
A minute on the block, how fast I make a thousand? (Cain)
That nigga you love to hate, still hug blocks and bubble weight
All for the love of cake

[Fabolous]
Baby girl, why wouldn't fellas stop ya?
After we come through the hood in helicopters (yeah)

[Paul Cain]
The dro I got in this wood, is hela-proper
We do the damn thing, how could they tell us not ta

[Chorus - Fabolous] (Paul Cain)
Why wouldn't this joint make you wanna dance?
Why wouldn't these jewels make you wanna glance?
(Why wouldn't this whip make you wanna ride?
And why wouldn't this thing be on my side?)
Why wouldn't this game have you on your knees?
Why wouldn't these 20's be on the V's?
(Why wouldn't this money make you wanna hate?)
Why wouldn't I what?

[Paul Cain]
Why wouldn't I pull up to the spot, yellow Azure (ok)
Dressed in yellow linen, covered in Canaries never a flaw (uh huh)
Why shouldn't I wear this much ice
The princesses in my ear, are clear and cut right
Why wouldn't I talk this slick (why not?)
With a watch and bracelet this flooded, and a cross this sick?
So why wouldn't I get at hoes (I mean)
To a nigga gettin' money like myself, a little brain that's minimal (yeah)
Might talk but I live it though, sick chain glitter roll
Never sleep and don't stop gettin dough

[Fabolous]
Uh, hold up Cain, uh, why wouldn't I have samples of raw (uh huh)
In Akademik sample velours
Hypnotic samples to pour
The European sample Azure
Wheel on the right side 'B' with the wings stamped on the door
It's the street family boss, I land by the shores
Get pampered by whores, eat scampy and claws
The kid's been trampeled before by a tramp with no flaws
That's up to they get cramps in they jaws
I keep tefs jammed in the four
Amp weed to draw, end up in a wheelchair ramp by your door

[Chorus - Fabolous] (Paul Cain)
Why wouldn't this joint make you wanna dance?
Why wouldn't these jewels make you wanna glance?
(Why wouldn't this whip make you wanna ride?
And why wouldn't this thing be on my side?)
Why wouldn't this game have you on your knees?
Why wouldn't these 20's be on the V's?
(Why wouldn't this money make you wanna hate?)
Why wouldn't I huh? Why wouldn't I what?

[Fabolous]
After a million scanned on it (yeah)
Why wouldn't the Range look like it got 20-inch ceiling fans on it (woo)
Only reason you in my face ma'am
Is cause I got the same Nikes that Jordan had on in "Space Jam"

[Paul Cain]
Why wouldn't I chase chips
Come through Aves, like "Pluto Nash" in Coupes that look like spaceships
Ridiculous bracelet and the outrageous
Watch with flawless rocks, invisible placement

[Fabolous]
Uh, I oughta feel like a boss (uh huh)
Why wouldn't I get a 100 an appearance, quarter mil a endorse
I oughta feel some remorse
Cause I'm killin' 'em out there, and a stick shift sport utility Porsche

[Paul Cain]
Yeah, I know when you see us, it be pissin' you off
Cause you would think we paid a fortune for the shit that we floss
Spend summers in my Sicily loft
Whole crib, interior decoration done by Christian Dior
(Baby girl), I got cops thats on the payroll
Jet skies, and speed boats docked up in Barbados

[Fabolous]
Green and cream Tims, brocolli and potatoes
Why wouldn't you see the Storm for the rocks and these tornadoes

[Chorus] - 2X

(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)

(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"

[Hook: Red Cafe]
I'm so fly, so fly
You might see a nigga if you look up in the sky like
There he go, (there he go), there he go, (there he go), (there he go)
There go that motherfucker

[Woman:]
I'm so fly, so fly, so fly, so fly
You might see me when you look up in the sky like
There she go, (there she go), there she go, (there she go), there she go
There go that motherfucker

[Verse 1: Fabolous]
I'm so fly they should put me in disguise
My shits tight like they didn't put me in my size
I already know don't put me on surprise
They gone be like there he go if you put me in disguise
Only be with winners they should put me as a prize
And you pussy niggas should be put between some thighs
These diamonds here clearer than HD
Them niggas over there squarer then a H3
They can't reach us that is why they pointin baby
I'm on my job them bitches gonna need appointments baby
And if you suckas tryin to see me just look me up
I hope the first place you look be up
Here I go

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Red Cafe]
Ugnh I did it yup yup I did it
I'm super fly with it paper arrives with it
Get the magazine if you wanna vibe with it
That rich young queen like I mixed Tide with it
Now I be live with it
I turns on my lovers the lollipop girls
Now they are all suckas
And we are all gutta
The flyest of em all
Light fi fire to em all
Yeah we airborn I took her airborn

Stones clear Like her mama was Liz Clairborne
I'm goin down down baby
Your street in a Spur flyin you see the blur
Ugnh what else!

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Paul Cain]
There he go!
I'm doin my damn thing (there he go!)
Leanin off of that champagne (there he go!)
It's the homie they call cain (there he go!)
I'm gettin money you fools should do the same (there he go!)
Fly as a G4 plane (there he go!)
White and yellows all in the chain (there he go!)
Y'all niggas no I stay so fly
Got the top down when I blow by
With the dough I am multi
You know why

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Freck Billionaire]
Ayo you see this the drop head coup I just added room
It's so crazy I should park it in "The Padded Room"
I'm with my bad young bitch she Israelian
Nigga, she so bad she got em staring like she alien
Philly B the one the bitches wanna deal with
Nowadays I just screw them like a drill bit
Straight Homicide and murder every verse rappin
Philly Freck bitch I'm flyer than the first captain

[Hook]

[Outro: Fabolous]
I'll take it, no contingencies
No loans, no leases
Cash, Fabolous