Dj Khaled Fed Up Ft. Usher, Young Jeezy, Drake And Rick Ross (directors Cut) New Album 2010 » [ LIMITED ]

"I'm looking at the numbers, Khaled," Drake said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm looking at the city. Everyone wants a piece of this. I’m tired of playing nice. I’m tired of smiling for the cameras when I know what they say when I leave the room. I’m just… I’m fed up." "Then put that pain in the microphone, boy!"

"We are at the gates of history," Khaled said, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that seemed to shake the ice in the crystal tumblers scattered around the console. "They didn't believe in us. They wanted us to stay in the corner. But we took the corner. We bought the block. And now, we feed the world."

"I got the soul, Khaled," Usher said softly. "But soul hurts. You want me to tell them how it feels to have everything and still feel like you're losing? You want me to tell them about the sleepless nights in the penthouse?" "I'm looking at the numbers, Khaled," Drake said,

"I'm fed up," Usher sang, his voice soaring effortlessly over the crashing horns, a perfect blend of pain and power. "I'm tired of the games... I given 'em my all, and they still want more..."

"We need the soul," Khaled whispered. "We have the muscle. We have the hunger. We have the future. But we need the soul to tie the knot." I’m tired of playing nice

The door to the back lounge swung open, and Young Jeezy walked in, flanked by two men who looked like they were made of granite. Jeezy didn't walk; he marched. His neck was heavy with diamonds that caught the light like strobe flashes. He didn't look at Drake. He didn't look at Ross. He looked straight at the soundboard.

The lights in the warehouse did not flicker; they hummed. Outside, the Miami humidity pressed hard against the metal walls, but inside, the air was freezing and smelled of expensive cologne, Cuban tobacco, and jet fuel. "They didn't believe in us

From the far corner of the room, sitting at a baby grand piano that no one had noticed him playing, Usher looked up. He hadn't said a word all night. He wore a black leather vest over a bare chest, his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. He struck a single, minor chord on the piano. The note hung in the air, melancholic and powerful, vibrating against the heavy bass traps in the walls.