Famine Friends
Hands On

Sapient: Hands on I pick it up, I’m like a soccer goalie, ‘cuz I do more than just kick it but I’m not the homie/ sick at art, cut throat at the business, I’m not like you let me show you the difference/ I don’t drink from the mainstream that’s more like shit’s creek, Ripley’s Believe It Or Not, I get things/ straight indie, like Doctor Jones (Doctor Jones?), DIY but my street team’s on patrol/ we on a roll and we ain’t stoppin’ here, vamanos! This game’s been commandeered/ a militia of blacksmiths letterheads and craftsmen, we band together in the famine/ so you think you got a problem – you don’t, you might be up on trends but you’re not in the know/ and in the Northwest (yeah) it gets awfully cold, so you uncomfortable if you ain’t up on my folks

(Chorus)
When it comes to the work we hands on (hands on),

when it comes that dirt we hands on (hands on)/

when it comes to this earth we stand on,

we gon’ stretch and touch every head we must, it’s hands on (x2)

Illmaculate: Now, just imagine a grimey cat that’s fuckin’ handsome, and last word to describe me as is unattractive/ I’m runnin’ rampant, and if I took a loss, shit, I just shook it off like nothin’ happened/ I can’t stand it when a chick’s insecure/ so if I did the same, you would see the bitch in me like I see the bitch in her/and if it’s reversed I would see the bitch in you in a skirt, naw I’d go to prison first/ ‘fore I let a man cross that line like he want’s that, everybody talks that jive/ but I’m not that guy you want it with, you trippin’ and ain’t had a hit yet like a contact high/ our product is narcotic and I promise, if I get my hands on it, leave my mark on it/ strangle holdin’ the beat, till it’s not breathin’, we not leavin’ give you the top reason

(Chorus)
When it comes to the work we hands on (hands on),

when it comes that dirt we hands on (hands on)/

when it comes to this earth we stand on,

we gon’ stretch and touch every head we must, it’s hands on (x2)

Onlyone: How are we the same? I put more hours on a page like there ain’t enough hours in a day/ Onlyone put hands on you, like you a podium, I stand on you/ I’m not the type of cat you look at or put hands on, my gun can your whoop ass, I put that on/ hey yall, my hands stay on the grip, all day long money I make on a flip/ we got Sapient and St. Johns in this, you in the sands but you ain’t on the strip/ get paid like Emilio pre-paid Helio, Big Willy tryin’ to make a milli’ yo/ shine through the Philly smoke in the video, Billy The Kid, gun shots make you tippy toe/ chips like silicone, you smell me like pissy clothes, I put on work though, but really though

(Chorus)
When it comes to the work we hands on (hands on),

when it comes that dirt we hands on (hands on)/

when it comes to this earth we stand on,

we gon’ stretch and touch every head we must, it’s hands on (x2)