Lyrics:
[Intro - Sample from "Overture Of Foxy Brown" by Willie Hutch]
(Sugar don't do it)
(Noooooo)
(Don't let 'em down)
[Verse 1 - Freeway]
State Property
real out here to be scared (sacred)
A real nigga gon' do whatever he has to
A man is the last thing you should fear (fear)
It ain't considered a crime
To roll a fat joint and smoke that weed
But the tale goes on and years went by
Another drug came and the boy got high
Ever since that day, he just wasn't
bottles he want to get in dat
I claim he payin me
You claim he hittin dat
He lookin at my ass
See its real fat
Nd Imma keep it real like dat
You know yo
EVERYBODY RUN
HE'S GOT A GUN
Yeah I got a gun, and not for fun
To prove a point and my time has begun
It's a time to be real
Snap and insta never gave
cuz you cutting too deep
Bitch nigga please back the fuck up from me
Why you bringing me energy you would not redirect at the real ones
That's
an earthquake
Psych!
Bitch you aint even got a cheesecake
Trying to make love with a homie he a remake
The Prince speaking facts let him know he a real snake
My
Real musical talent is practising for hours a day until your fingers ache
Not being sonically hypnotised by the noises your computer makes
You claim you
the certified
Scientific head
Fat Joe is cook coke
Jules is crack and the flesh
Young Jeezy the snow man
But our pack is the best
So when you see the 8
I could see Fat Joe screamin Terror Squad
Imagine if there were still four survivors still in Destiny's Child
And TLC never lost they Left Eye
Imagine
a Vaudeville scene
Oh, he's playing a part
He's just a dime-store Valentino
But without any heart!
He's not a movie star
He's just another two-timing Joe
headed for the park
(Little does he know there's a
Crew of niggas waitin'
To put him on they hood
And they been anticipatin')
Fix my khakis as I step and I
at everything, I got this
Uh, Joe Pesci 38
He got a roach clip burnin' in the ashtray
(Burnin' in the ashtray)
You know I'm spendin' good money
So he love me
Said
You niggas is hustlin' backwards
(They talkin' big, baby)
[Chorus]
I tried to told 'em not to act up
But he didn't listen
Now his colla bone
God Hates Gucci
And
He don't wear Louie
Don't love guns
Guess who yours truly
Young Tim Duncan
With a bun in the oven
Jimmy and Chrissy
We was kissin
Havana Syndrome
God Hates Gucci
And
He don't wear Louie
Don't love guns
Guess who yours truly
Young Tim Duncan
With a bun in the oven
Jimmy
SHE WAS NOT AT ALL THA SAME SUSAN THAT WAS NICE HER NAME
THEN JOE DID MEET SUSAN´S MATE N SO STARTED BY THA FATE
THAT STORY WHAT ALL DID C ABOUT SUSAN N
Real talkin nigga
Man I'm all about my cash flow
Nigga I'm the shit my momma
Had me out her asshole nigga I be actin'
Nigga know that we mackin'
like you crazy, he got classic shit
[Verse 2]
Its the killa kid from the bronx
Holdin down to the death
You can hear the squad comin
By the sound
make them question if the plates are real or not
This is sort of what God is going for
Joseph took the plates home and wrote down what he found
Why you mad? why you mad bro?
Lean back nigga fat joe
You know I’m just tryna get the bag yo
We like lol to the bank though
True talk (Yeah)
Look
I work real hard in the old brickyard, I'll be a foreman someday.
He works real hard in the old brickyard, but a foreman he'll not be, nae. I
helped
coast to coastin'
Rub it on your skin like lotion
What's the commotion? Oh my Lord
Another cord chopped by the Wu-Tang sword
Hey, hey, hey, like Fat
coast to coastin'
Rub it on your skin like lotion
What's the commotion? Oh my Lord
Another cord chopped by the Wu-Tang sword
Hey, hey, hey, like Fat
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