Lyrics:
you nigga,
I got the 40/40 made by two jiggas,
I make you "Holla, Holla", I Ja Rule niggas!
The lion's in the room, what up Fat Joe?
I'm Curtis'
name is DJ Run
Shoots a gift like a gun
Slays suckers one by one
Rather chill than kill
Cause the killing's no fun
So together forever
Crew be
[Intro: Lil' Kim]
Ladies and Gentlemen
You are now listening to the sounds
of the Notorious B.I.G. and the Junior M.A.F.I.A.
Jealous niggaz
gas without causing an accident
Pump my gas, cut my grass, I can't take out the f- trash
Without someone passing through my sub', harassing
I'd count
Harold Melvin sample
I played it for Hip over the phone
He's like, "Oh, yo that shit is crazy
Jay might want it for this compilation album he doin'
workin' on nigga? (Um, you know, I got Curren$y album)
(And quietly workin' on my album, ya dig?)
Oh, I'm ready to brush my shoulders off and drop my next
hip-hop
take Don Cartagena, as your lawfully wedded husband
Now by the power invested in me, by me
I pronounce you husband and wife
[Fat Joe
untamed by the children in this game
Tre, go grab them things, we gon' get paid, man
Joe Casey know a n**** wan' buy some things
I start in the hood, I
enough fellas to be you, nigga
I got the 40/40 made by two jiggas
I make you Holla, Holla, I Ja Rule niggas
The lion's in the room, waddup Fat Joe?
I
(YO), uh, (oh God), haha
Haha (feedin you, feedin you)
Yo (feedin you, feedin you)
(Fat Joe)
Yo, uh, yo, call me the JV artist
That means I own two
and comin' in five seconds
Givin' back shots patch box, fat knots
I rap hot, like black glocks
Disrespect this and get disconnected
Then sprayed like
pockets fat though, fatter than fat Joe
Yeah its a facto, they in the back row
You a fiasco, my lyrics Van Gough
This ain't your mission, times up you
(yes)
It's like that man, it's like that (yes)
Check it
I'm not your average MC with the Joe Schmoe flow
If you don't know me by now, you'll never
them no go take pas my turf
This bars are cleavage I’m a bitch if I don’t get it off my chest
Brain wasn’t gifted by a fat man who ride
Deers
I
talab ghir slam
3allama making the bases
1 man bazzaf 3araf
bazzaf 3la kola 1
Sadd lmadd
Khallik tarfad
F chabka kan7rad
Dardar ssarf bla mard
Ri2assa f
a definition of his own early age, and forming his own crew Full-A-Clips
He was able to get noticed from his newly found partner in crime, Fat Joe
Pun
Taffy-Apple Tango Mambo Cha Cha Cha
(Heel and toe?) I don't know
Last night at Papa Joe's my buddy met a lovely dove
She was the kind you never find but
Ratin latent, and perpetratin
My album's love mics, tough like dirt bikes
You get frantic, New York City, run and panic
California, I switch
the shit with a rusty screwdriver, BLAOWW!!
[I'll fuckin]
[I'll fuckin
I'll fuckin hang you by your fuckin dick
off a fuckin twelve sto-story building out
twerkin' wit'?
Throw it, bust it open, show me what you twerk wit'?
Ass so fat, need a lap dance
I'm in that white ghost chasin' Pac-Man
Hundred out
lucky, my God! Flight of Icarus in those grubby dirty by now horribly sticky little fingers and
hands and grubby palms, and oh what else is grubby, I don't
"Ok, sure. Uhh, by the way, what is this for?"
[Signing receipt]
[F2:] "Just so I could have proof for my friends that
I met the biggest fuckin'
at the time
We would memorize every single bar of his rhymes
Summertime, kids is playin' in the park
I might just ride by, let 'em sprinkle the truck
hold up captain cause this ain't good.
I'm getting chased by some fat rednecks in white hoods.
I think there trying to kill me "well what do you mean?"
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