Lyrics:
Fire Smoke I'm High Joe
Eyes Low Smoke Somethin
I Just Want To Smoke Somethin
Roll A J And Float Son
Fired Up And Pass It Around
When It's Done Got
25/8 I a never let the bag go
Just beccuz u flexxxin on the Gram don't make you bad h**
Choppas make a n**** lean back Like he fat joe
Never had
it from my cock I don't feel shit
So check me the original joe pesky freak the sexy
I got more gadgets than the inspector, go-go jet-skis
Then swoop
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
Yo, Yo What's good it's ya boy Joe Crack the Don
Aka Fat Joe, Aka We the business
Check this out, This is brand new, Top Floor
(That Nigga Jo' Goin'
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
feat. Fat Joe, JuJu, Noreaga
Uh
JuJu
Nore
Fat Joe
Tony Touch
Joe Crack 'the don'
Top of the world, we ain't gonna stop till you earl
got
call me Joe
Fat as ever and clever, and never second to none
Wearin' leather and better (What's your name?) DJ Run
But in the summer's a bummer,
right now, pick up a pound
Enjoy and lounge with style, y'all know my name by now
[ chorus ]
[ outro: fat joe ]
No doubt
Cuban link, baby
'99
Terror
so you know my ass high
Funk made by my nigga named X,
Bitches with the fat lips and fat ass, I want to sex
Check this, nuts to your chin now fin,
said I got dos
I took her to the mall, cause I got gift cards
She give me sloppy like I'm Joe yeah, cause I got hard
Chasing a check like Mr. Krabs
She
so you know my ass high
Funk made by my nigga named X,
Bitches with the fat lips and fat ass, I want to sex
Check this, nuts to your chin now fin,
didn't know
See man in front of the video
Never lost a fight like Billy Joe
Always got green in my hand like Piccolo
I'm Garcia improving
Come like Canelo
I'm up, throwing money, Fat Joe, make it rain
Got a dubby in my hand, West side what I claim
Yeah, we tote Glocks, hoe stop, before you get your dome
hol' on, huh
Tip toe (wait, wait), pockets on fat like a hippo (hol' on)
I turn your wife to a widow (yeah)
Bro just got blood on his new coat
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
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
Fat Joe the Don!
And Mr worldwide reporting live from the east
Ross the boss, Mr mauricio
I know paper, can buy the newspapers
Millions now, billions
Triple X, dvd's, I got a whole stack in
Was snapped out of my daydream by something that I seen
I left the tissue full of spunk on the floor by my jeans
It
sign my shirt?
[Violent J:]
Hehehehehehehehe, yeah
I remember school, hoes back then were like "Joe Bruce ewwww"
Years passed by, and look I'm
sign my shirt?
[Violent J:]
Hehehehehehehehe, yeah
I remember school, hoes back then were like "Joe Bruce ewwww"
Years passed by, and look I'm
my nephew, so you know we got the juice
Loose lips sink ships, trip this for a second
I'm all the way up on this Fat Joe record
Don't let me down,
on my own every rule to survive
Still I manned up in caught those wrongs
Go ahead and judge Joe, I got my court clothes on
Y'all see the front, behind
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