Lyrics:
a squeeze
Surrounded by bugs, surrounded by bees
Got allergies, come out with a sneeze
Calling up my local friend, in Yapanese
Gonna go home, watch some DVDs
isn't mastered
CD is in plastic, these niggas is has-beens
We ain't makin friends while these niggas is Anistons
Dig, these niggas is fake Joe
(4:30 in the morning, mira)
You know what I mean, mira
Dame te culo, mami (give me my shit back)
Yo, Fat Joe and them is here now, word
(Shine
my blunt and that's fat joe
Never tryna stunt this hoe telling me I'm mad dope
I Heard your little song that shit sounded like a bad joke
Brain blast
of the game, that flood the state
In a stretch Phantom, with more Windows than Bill Gates
(Chorus)
(Nelly)
Uhh, uhh, Joey Crack!
(Fat Joe)
Yeah,
yours
Get yours,winners never quit
Get yours,go for yours,we went for ours
For those sittin' back coolin',relaxed,gettin' fat
Waitin' for the right thing
'goin jump (We make it jump)
We run the g been them niggas a buck
Joe in the VIP
Aye Jae in the cut
Big chine get the back end while we turn s*** up (Hey)
heart for the T when I pop out
When I'm thumbing through this money boy I act out
I was thuggin' outside when they brought act out
Geekster geeking off
because my fat ass stay - living comfy
Down in d-are on the landing strip
When record sales get low we back to advancing bricks
Jack-of-all-trades we do
it's like that, on a phat track
with a fat sack
D-Roc and Kaine, ready for combat
Ying Yang, Inglewood, that's our home
It could be on, we ready for
they don't come outside
He said he a killer but he don't be sliding
We spent on they block and we caught that boy hiding
Bro bro said he don't use guns
and attack your bitch ass. We keep it movin like a juggla jugglin wicked and thuggin motha fucka say somethin
Lable me whatever it never mattered to me long
durin' backyard wrasslin
Overalls coverin' their fat lard asses up
Your cousin isn't someone that you have to fuck
Claimin' that you're Irish but you have
on my chest, come feel my heartbeat
We can park the Jeep, pump Mobb Deep, and just spark the
It's hard to creep since I found Joe
Every pretty round
I’m really steppin n yea I keep a weapon..convicted felon I get caught well den it’s back to jailin..don’t give a fuck I’m really I’m thuggin I know
Most of my killers got fades or dreads Ima real G standin by what i said
Keep a bad bitch just to lay dine for bed fuck her and go ima leave her on read
bass like a tenor, Fat Joe Soprano
Even with that work, work, work your bitch washed
Had me like what the bludclot, Chris Bosh
She told him that they
the way, we been getting wealthy
Pockets fat, I swear we getting all the green
Mama told me and Beez to stay out the street
Ma I’m thuggin’ I’m just tryna
on the skin, some might call it sin
Politicians all move for money, what the hell are we callin' them?
Low life, I'm crawlin' out, 911 I Porsched it out
Y'all
One two, one two
And this is, the hardcore raw
Lyrical law, never seen before
And I am, D.M.C.
And for all of y'all
This is the way, we reckless
the public
[Jay-Z] + (DJ Envy)
Gotta love it (You gotta love it) Young!
Desert Storm - it's the Roc! It's what we do, beotch!
(Fat shout, whole
And bought you two fat dildos just to kill time
The fact that I'm... on the other side of this glass
I realize... just exactly what a nigga had
You stayed
me then turnin around I peeped the lovely
Fly face, fat ass gave me a glass of bubbly, said,
"Compliments of Bugsy," then took me across the persian
magic city fat asses and they pretty
They got me blowin' thousands throwin' stacks by the fifty
Got some bitches out of strokers gotta get focus
I'm
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