Firewater [Instrumental]

Fat JoeFat Joe 

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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 »

Year:

1996

4:20

5 Views

Playlists:

#1

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(4:30 in the morning, mira)
You know what I mean, mira
Dame te culo, mami (give me my shit back)
Yo, Fat Joe and them is here now, word
(Shine like marbles) collects diamonds
(The remix)
Ayo, add on son
Politic for the real ones

Yo, we gettin' knots, like stockbrokers who own Marriott's
Blast shots for all my niggas who splash cops
The rich Corleone camp is here, thousand and one 
Corner son, fake a jack, you be a goner

Yo, control this rap like Napoleon
Half-Mongolian, hold it, you owe me in
Rock 'em like linoleum, yeah
Lex, diamonds, shinin' like you rhymin'
929'n, Titanium glass, time to play that ass
Whirlwinds of French, come movin' intense
Time to pull again, release the shell, well
Make 'em yell again, so sleek
But I'm a be maxin' in suites
Countin' your paper and countin' your sheeps
Hittin' your chick in Jeeps
Miraculously, attack your faculty, who wanna tackle me?
You jack Mack, kidnap 'em for free
What? You got heat, you better pop those
We movin' like Gestapos, through underground potholes
That rock those, much land discoveries
Chrome rims, sippin' bubbly
Who livin' lovely, half a brick to cover me
So dissin' me, come on now listen G
You's a dime, I'm a key
Thun, thun straight out of Sicily
Now, back to the stash crib
Joey Crack baggin' up cracks
One love, give 'em G-Packs, kid

We gettin' knots, like stockbrokers who own Marriott's
Blast shots for all my niggas who splash cops
The rich Corleone camp is here, thousand and one 
Corner thun, fake a jack, you be a goner

Word life, I'll be the infamous
Who leaks the witnesses, crack's the wickedest
Run up in your crib, blast your kids
Ain't no myth in this, shit's official
I'll pistol-whip you with my Smith & Wesson
'Cause my investin' was sendin' rappers to heaven
Gives me an erection
You need protection from the smooth assassin
Who really moves at action, blastin' mothafuckas
Execution fashion
Now who's the fat one that you love to hate?
Catch you at your mother's wake, smack you
Then I'll wack you with my snub trey-eight
It doesn't take much to make me restless
Look at my face and definite lose your breath
Truck up, my face is Lexus
You wan' test this, so really?
I'll make one call and have the whole Wu comin' on the ferry
I'm very dangerous and well-connected
I puff an L with Method, then try to 
Decide who's next to feel his neck slit
So respected and admired the boss, retired your lost
Wu Tang, your terror squad, vaya con Dios

We gettin' knots, like stockbrokers who own Marriott's
Blast shots for all my niggas who splash cops
Rich Corleone camp is here, thousand and one 
Corner thun, fake a jack, you be a goner

You guys despise guys like us
Guys like us, disgust like Spartacus
You cuss and claim a bust
You lust for a part of us
You thrust, but can't touch 
Plus we far from any type of fellas you can trust
Put the pressure on the mic
A bench press to your chest, sound like sweat on my back
When having sex, tight-ass flex
Pretty Pocahontas pussy sweet, like my new Tec
Sis' got curves like a GS, 300 Lex
My body's 95% alcohol, 5% cancer
Sosa diamonds, Getty, Lucci, blaze it up like Bonanza
Catch me in the cut, easy G's is burnin' my gut
As I remember my ménage à trois was mired by sluts
I question mark your heart, punctuate your fate
All your version predicates 
Done as well as you pronunciate
In the West we're gonna break you off the isle
Take C.O.s hostage Arab style, no surrender

Gettin' knots, like stockbrokers who own Marriott's
Blast shots for all my niggas who splash cops
Rich Corleone camp is here, thousand and one 
Corner thun, fake a jack, you be a goner

Yo, I'm all about business and enterprisin'
Advisin' financial advisors on franchisin' the wider than horizons
Divisin' ideas with master minders
Movin' on a stash of diamonds
First we get the cash, then we laugh like minors
Don't get me wrong I'm a funny bastard
But when it come to money, thun, I'm not the one to laugh with
I'm after for what cash can bring me brothers 
Me and my demon lovers blast and laugh at hyenas
Back to Ringling Brothers believe them others
You the best, yet, and still
I'm investin' mil's on a hunch over lunch
Puffin' on a Chesterfield
Who wan' test the real scandalous
I'm at the Sands in Los Angeles
Plannin' hits with an anonymous philanthropist
Spanish kids, close to God, like evangelists
Choppin' niggas up and makin' sandwiches

Gettin' knots, like stockbrokers who own Marriott's
Blast shots for all my niggas who splash cops
Rich Corleone camp is here, thousand and one 
Corner thun, fake a jack, you be a goner (goner)

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