Lyrics:
blunts cigar scent
I'm by myself and niggas run they mouths like auctions
To streets my brother
Fefe's my brother
And we stay on point like a fucking
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
anywhere
F**k mi good nuh handle wid care
She ready fi siddung pan b***y like chair
Breast stiff nah wear nuh brassiere
Har punani nuh have on nuh hair
[supreme]
Ain't no time to waste, we in the race
All my peoples wit me, they try to get to first place
M.f.c., way for life, I'm here to let you know
(wanna be me)
Broke my heart into B-I-Ts (B-I-Ts)
You know, they F-A-T (F-A-T)
Hits thrown, but I-D-C (I-D-C)
My ass is the B-I-G (B-I-G)
Takes a lot for
like Jar-Jar
Hardy har har, very funny
You very dummy, and every questions very crummy
I'm asking you, what do you want from me?
An essay on the F-A-T
Hey 'Pac, it's yo' boy
Hey man so far I've been listenin' to your album
And I ain't heard nothin' you could kick back and smoke a beadie to
You
niggas in the game
A lotta niggas got two albums I can't explain
How they maintain to keep the same migraines
I can't help it if my brain is supersonic
a sermon
Spittin' sick is a gift
I've been blessed by the lord
Been the illest since they snipped
My umbilical cord nigga
Yo, what the fuck is up man?
like Fat Joe Sing
I'm here to bring the new Stove Boy Team
We got the Flame, we aiming straight at your spleen
We bring the pain, If you smell what I
eating and getting fat while y'all dying of hunger
I get drunk in the winter, stay high in the summer
Watch out, my album's putting up McDonald's numbers
a comeback like I'm Tony Parker
Call my assistant I need me cover
My album be fire
Ill still drop another one
You mimick my style
You got nothing on none of us
How freaky can you get to a long fat dick
Hella freaky like I said to a song that hit
I'm the dirty rapper Too Short, the triple X
Run up in
I used to kick it with a brother named, Moe
Moe used to kick it with a brother named, Joe
Joe used to kick it with his girlfriend Lateisha
head wid chicken by the buckets
Mhmm mhmm mhmm
Di 45 mi nuh lef it, if not mi tuck it
Verse 1
Suit slick, fresh bread widout the raisin
Tell Scotia
might get Hee-Bie Jee-Bies
Good pussy, good smoke - my only Achilles
Don't give no f*ucks if these niggas gon' feel me
I murder the beat then I make me
that or they 4:4, some call them fantastic
She called me fantastic, I called her a fat bitch
Still kill the pussy, put the cat in a casket
The funeral
truck (Beep, beep)
Say he want smoke, bitch, then it's goin' up (Let's go)
Gold around me like I'm King Tut (Tut)
Smalls shoot like Joe Johnson, coming in
knowledge to uploading albums it's truly a miracle
Flu season I'm living and breathing even when I sneeze it sounds lyrical
And you could write a verse, but I
and a beanie
Sippin' on a martini, takin' my pick at bitches like eenie meenie
I'm unscannable, young cannibal
Eat wack MCs like Hannibal
'Cause Joe Pesci's my
to come up with my N***as with me
Im in the club and Im rocking balanci
If I f**k with the b***h Ima drape her in Fendi
Zeno made the beat and said he got
(boom, bitch)
Bitch, quit runnin', nigga, flip somethin' (ha)
I know your soft ass ain't did nothin' (oh)
I'm hittin' these hoes by the four (thot)
Fat Joe I don't dance Bruh
All about that action
We don't say much
We don't play that
Ama Pull up with Squad
You gon really know whats up
When we all
On the real I keep it real under the moon and the sun
It's in my DNA and blood live by the money and gun
Study Art Of War so every single battle is
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