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Fat Joe

Joseph Antonio Cartagena (born August 19, 1970), better known by his stage name Fat Joe, is an American rapper, CEO of Terror Squad Entertainment, and member of musical groups D.I.T.C. and Terror Squad. more »


This joint right here is goin' out to everybody gettin' money 

I mean the real cream 

All up and down the East and West coast 

 Check it  

Chorus: repeat 2X 

 Hustlin is the key to success 

 Money is the key to sex 

The life is gettin cash  drinkin Mo'  gettin blessed 

The games people play 

The names people slay 

It's just another ordinary day 

One's for the cash  two's for every blunt's ash 

Three's for all the 40 brews goin to cruise the bowel 

Four's for the drugs, sex, and power 

I be the top dolla scala, rockin gold collars 

 While you tryin to sip the juice, I'm takin swallows 

Step into my zone and get blown, ? internationally known 

Yeah, in case you haven't heard the rep 

Have an appetite for beef and get, hand fed led 

Rapid-fire echoes through your, vicinity 

Why you messin with this nigga from Trinity? 

For every shell that fell, there's a story to tell 

But it's a fine line between grapevines and pines 

Knahmean? There's no room for snitches and loud bitches 

But it's always room for riches and deep ditches 

That's how it be in this everlasting game 

 Declaring war on cocks, and leavin chumps slain 

So maintain, and put the frontin to a rest 

Or today'll be the grand openin of your chest 

Success, triple beam, knahmean? 

 Dolla dolla bill 


The streets are full of vengeance, and it's expensive 

If you don't organize your words right in your sentence 

 Twelve gauge holes take souls and lives are lost 

Who said an arm and a leg was a high cost to toss? 

 Things are done different, in my zip code 

 Hollow tips implode, dumb-dums explode 

Now your crew is screamin like they see demons when I reload 

You can't comprehend, act like you want it for clarity 

I'm pushin wigs, handin out jigs like charity 

You best to get your groove on, or get moved on 

Or play the hot steppa, and die with your shoes on 

I collects ass and cash 

 While my crew consumes liquor and hash, and keep the stash 

Whether, hustlin or dustin we get busy with ours 

T.S., T.A.T., respect for miles 

The Bronx is the turf, South is the area 

 Bring ten, bring twenty, the more guns the merrier 

Nobody's bad as me, no cops nabbin me 

 Front if you dare and I'll change your whole anatomy 

For real... uh! 

 Chorus (repeat to fade)


Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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"Success Lyrics." STANDS4 LLC, 2017. Web. 28 Jun 2017. <>.

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