F.A.Y. Masta Ace (Ft. Stricklin)

[Verse One: Masta Ace]
I'm startin' to think that my skill is a waste
Still in the race with an ice grill on my face
Mad at the world, mad at you, mad at my girl
Mad at my friends and anybody drivin' a Benz
I really hate this nigga that delivers my mail
But if I hit him they gonna send me up the river to jail
I hate my neighbors, they always askin' for late night favors
Hate indie labels, especially hate majors
I don't give a fuck no more, fuck this tour
Fuck these shows and these groupies, they all ho's
Hate these rude people stayin' all in my face
And hate the fact that Visa always callin' my place
So all you mean creditors and magazine editors
Same ones that debted us and put niggas ahead of us
I'm a mad dog who sits in the dark
I'm fixin' to bark watchin' 106 And Park
What a mess, I guess I'm sorta stressed
Turn on the radio and I get more depressed
No wonder I'm kinda bitter
Strick told me I should quit player hating, but fuck that I'm not a quitter
Had a few cats betray me, try to play me
Bail and try to blame me, fuck you pay me
If y'all could, y'all would finish me
That's why this finger here is for everybody in the industry