Lyrics:
the hills to the best
I prove that I'm witty by usin my mind
I spit from my heart so you don't confuse
Me with other crews in my city
Cause I am the hardest
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
Yeah. Uh. Joe crack the don!
Ton' Sunshine. Terror, uhh
Terror squad, its our time!
Uhh, yea, hand it ova
Uh, yo, uh-huh, what, yea, uh, woo
the honey
A-ooo-wee
Baby, way there over there by the apple tree
Now, look-a-there
She kind-a, big n' fat
Now, look-a-there
A-but it ain't like that
Now,
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
the clit and put the pussy to rest
I might not flow like Fat Joe but I'm cool
Fucking third of the trio, a pussy eating fool
Dripping out my mouth baby
the meat, she gotta go (yeah)
We eat the beef like a fat ho (uh-huh)
Choppa make 'em lean back like Fat Joe (lean back)
Get you wacked, nigga, that's what
found my soul mate finally
But one day I found out she actually owned a copy
Of Joe dirt on DVD
Oh, no! I said
Hey! Are we lobbing hand grenades, kiddo?
not a lotta things
That impress me but this album definitely took me by the balls
And said look here, this sure is something serious
Futuristic, he
a-a-ass up, face down
(Mera, dime, Fat Joe, lo' intocable' ¿oíste, cabrón?)
Yes, ass up, face down
(Papi, tú me dice', qué el que fantasmee en Nueva York
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
topie jeszcze więcej osiągnięć
Dam ci mój rap w jego najlepszej formie
By twój wysiadł jak McGyver przy Jamesie Bondzie
Tomas Oxy Dj Joe rap robimy byś go
masturbate
Pass the cake, a Big Mac
Large fry, two four-piece nuggets
And a fuckin' massive shake
I eat it all faster than a fat kid's plate
Then I'll need
Oh You drop a new album… Guess who don't give a fuck
And your Last one went platinum… Guess who don't give a fuck
And you Number one streaming… Guess
fade ya like a record, I'ma play ya
Like suede Pumas, clides, fat laces on a mayor
Deliver like a mailman, slide into your crib-o
Rather have a limo
album dropping with a reality show
Cock the Mac 11 in front of Hot 97
And call my publicist tell her "we in press heaven"
No one gives a shit except
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
here, over here
Over here, over here
Ayo, fuck all that, it's the fat young Jesus
Flow prestigious
Stackin' money and playing the field man like Regis
our blood
Uh, new heroines, new Marilyns
Move coke through Maryland
Through Easton, oh, you beastin'
Move fat packs, Jack Gleason
The honeymoon's
freakin' by a garbage can
The next young freak, I met was Red
I took her to my house and she gave me head
She like blowin' dicks, is all she said
tapes hit the store, they sell so quick
You can tell by my big fat royalty check
It's just a Dangerous thing when I'm on the mic
And the local police
Why'all think that I'm done, Run don't got no flow?
What is you loco? I'm grande gato pa-po
Run and Bo, D.M.C. and Fat Joe
Fo' cats on the same track got
But I don't wanna be a playa no more
I'm not a playa, I just crush a lot
But you know Big Pun and Brock still down by law
Who's down to crush
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
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