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Fat Joe

Joseph Antonio Cartagena (born August 19, 1970), better known by his stage name Fat Joe, is an American rapper, CEO of Terror Squad Entertainment, and member of musical groups D.I.T.C. and Terror Squad. more »

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Ready for war Joe, how you wanna blow they spot
I know these dirty cops that'll get us in if we murder some wop
Hop in your Hummer, the Punisher's ready
Meet me at Vito's with Noodles, we'll do this dude while he's slurpin' spaghetti
Everybody kiss the fucking floor, Joey Crack
Buck 'em all if they move, Noodles shoot that fucking whore
Dead in the middle of Little Italy little did we know
That we riddled some middlemen who didn't do diddly

It'll be a cold day in hell the day I take an L
Make no mistake for real I wouldn't hesitate to kill
I'm still the fat one that you love to hate
Catch you at your mother's wake, smack you then I whack you with my snub trey-eight

I rub your face off the Earth and curse your family children
Like Amityville I drill the nerves in your cavity filling
Insanity's building a pavilion in my civilian
The cannon be the anarchy that humanity's dealing
A villain without remorse, who's willing to out your boss
Forever and take all the cheddar like child support

I support Pun in anything he does, anything he loves
My brother from another mother sent from the above
A thug nigga just like me, one of the best, might be
Even better leaving niggas kneeling on they right knee

Spike Lee couldn't paint a better picture
You small change, I'm blowing out your brains gettin' richer

Hit you with the Mac, smack your bitch, nigga what?
You getting stuck, my trigger finger's itchy as a f*ck

Truck jewels, cruising in the Land, pumping "Cash Rules"
Last crew to want it caught a hundred trying to pass through

That's true (so who the next to get it?)
TS the best that did it (get it off your chest kid admit it and it's)

Yeah, and you don't stop
(Twenty shot Glock with the cop killers fill 'em to the top)
Yeah, and you don't stop
(Joey cracks the rock, and Big Pun keeps the guns cocked)
Yeah, and you don't stop
(We'll make it hot nigga, what? Bring it, I blow your whole spot)
Yeah, and you don't stop
It's still 187 on an undercover cop

F*ck the police, I squeeze first, make 'em eat dirt
Take 'em feet first through the morgue, then lodge 'em in the deep earth
The street's cursed, the first amendment's culturally biased
Supposed to supply us with rights, tonight I hold my rosary tight as I can
I'm one man against the world, just me and my girl
Black Pearl Latina mas fina but keeps it real
You know the deal, we steal from the rich and keep it
Peep it, it's no secret, watch me and Joe go back and forth and freak it

Creep with me, as I cruise in my Beemer
All the kids in the ghetto call me Don Cartagena
Kicking ass as I blast off heat, and
You never see me talk to police, though
You should know that I really don't care
Pull you by the hair, slit your throat, and I'll leave you right there
So beware it's rare that niggas want beef, Big Pun speak
And let these motherfuckers know how we run the streets

F*ck peace, I run the streets deep with no compassion
Puerto Ricans known for slashing, catching niggas while they sleeping
No relaxing, keep your eyes open, sharp reflexes
Three TECs is in the Jeep Lexus just in case police test us
Street professors, Terror Squad, ghetto scholars
Full-a-clips mob, inflicts the fear of God when the metal hollers
Better acknowledge or get knocked down until I'm locked and shot down
Heather B. couldn't make me put my Glock Down

We lock towns like rounds in the chamber
Boogie Down major like Nine, I bust mine
Every time plus I'm the crime boss of New York
Where we taught to walk the walk, all my niggas carry chalk
And stalk, I prey like the Predator
Whoever want it, go and get it set it baby and I'ma bury ya
So remember the Squad that I'm reppin'
I fill a clip of my weapon and Punish niggas 'til it's Armageddon

Yeah, and you don't stop
(Twenty shot Glock with the cop killers fill 'em to the top)
Yeah, and you don't stop
(Joey cracks the rock, and Big Pun keeps the guns cocked)
Yeah, and you don't stop
(We'll make it hot nigga, what? Bring it, I blow your whole spot)
Yeah, and you don't stop
It's still 187 on an undercover cop (how you feelin'?)
Yeah, and you don't stop
(Twenty shot Glock with the cop killers fill 'em to the top)
Yeah, and you don't stop
(Joey cracks the rock, and Big Pun keeps the guns cocked)
Yeah, and you don't stop
(We'll make it hot nigga, what? Bring it, I blow your whole spot)
Yeah, and you don't stop
It's still 187 on an undercover cop (how you feelin'?)

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