[Fat Joe] Uh-oh, uh-oh.. Let's get it over with. Yo sound boy turn the levels up Let's get it over with, UH! Terror Squad up in this motherfucker Where my real niggaz at? My Bronx niggaz, my (?) niggaz I see you Lil' Hat! Uh, Ahaha! It's time to take it to these niggaz right here Yeah.. yo.. yo..
Who wanna spaz out? Crunchtime, blow ya abs out Leave you in the fetal position, witcha ass out Ready to mash out any crew actin like they the true facts of life, frontin through the camera lights Despite, we hold it down regardless I got Def Jam suckin me like, "I wish you was my artist" For starters, who's the largest cat? Get a hundred grand from my most garbage rap Now how hard is that? Everything we spit be hot Whether it's live on Flex or in front of the chicken spot Grimed out, we really live whatchu rhyme 'bout See me posted up in the Tunnel, with my shines out Ice cold like Alaska when I pass ya Got girls shakin, losin they breath, as if they catchin asthma Headed to the bar to pop some bottles Now we in the car headed home to rock some models All I hear in the background is Gucci and Prada But I'm tryna gas these bitches to screw me for nada We the best that done it, confess you fronted Anybody wanna test how much straps, you want it?
[Hook - Fat Joe] Aiyyo the gangsta's back Stop it right where you at Let a real nigga rock real murderer rap Tell them thug niggaz, listen to that Gotchu feelin it hard like Joe the God's really bringin it back!
[Fat Joe] I'm from my days and legends, since age eleven I was the cause of dope fiends catchin AIDS infections Most of us are dead, but the rest is locked Runnin in the rec room and check me out on the box A CEO could get optioned tryna change the channel It's like tryna take the flesh outta the mouth of hungry cannibals Joe the God, the flow is hard Known for packin two dozen birds like Noah's Ark I'm the realest of 'em, make you feel the pressure Catch you at a club, smack you up, steal ya leather You niggaz soften me, beat you out of the mix Tough talk, tough walk, but you cry like a bitch I see you downin the Cris', I'm not hatin, I'm just aggrevated I ask myself every day, how these faggots made it? Fuck around with the Don and get decapitated I'm sick of hearin 'em (?) for all the cats that made it
[Hook - Fat Joe]
[Hook 2 - Armageddon] Aiyyo the kid is back Leave it right where you at Let a real nigga hold that, you probably won't clap Tell them thug niggaz, move it on back I'm feelin tight and I'm hot Ready to pop the crack right through your back
[Armageddon] That's how Kenny rocks, I'm more advanced than how your learnin I'm like the force of space balance and planets while they churnin Poppin rosary beads, piss on ya candle while it's burnin Rush ya widows crib and pop ya... bodies... Now I know you can feel the heat I generate Imagine when I penetrate ya stomach, and make ya body's center bake We can argue for days, whether it's faster to drop five shots in ya astronaut before you cloud the stash box Splash ya brains on ya birds' laps Swerve you on the curb, crash the Range, and push the front skirt back And murk after that, blurtin curse words Yo I popped that nigga's son one before we catch the first I'ma kill any murderer, leave a nigga burpin up Blood, chokin on chunks of his lung interior Every verse that I spit's a personal riff I meet a ill key frontin, I'm a murder you shit Niggaz play me while distrubin the Bricks I'm like the feelin of the first time they ever held a bird in they grip Motivator thug, scrape 'em, shoot the bolts in his butt Energizin 'em up, make 'em wanna open 'em up Actin like I can't happen till I smack him in his Adam's apple Death to rappin, I don't wanna battle I'd rather rush your studio session and shatter the booth Clap at ya face, give the mic feedback the goof
[Hook] [Hook 2]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
