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Search results for 'make it rain dirty by fat joe'

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sensitivity
The name is Fat Joe, the label's Relativity, huh
I chop a rapper like a meat cleaver
I'm burnin hot, people think I have a fever, check it
If niggaz
Lies all mixed up with omissions
Aw welcome home again
It's too late for apologies they're falling at my feet

This is just the way of the world Joe said
punchin body blows and uppercuts 



[Fat Joe] 

The South Bronx is the wrong place to visit 

I don't know an MC who has enough balls to diss it
fake jax
Fat Joe, bringin forth the illest motherfuckers
In this whole rap game
Hey yo Armageddon, let these motherfuckers know

[Armageddon]
You
As old Joe sat a dyin'
The baby down the hall was cryin'
Somebody had a party goin' on
The fat boy you told tales to
Moved away the other day
punchin body blows and uppercuts 



[Fat Joe] 

The South Bronx is the wrong place to visit 

I don't know an MC who has enough balls to diss it
and the rodeo clown
Rodeo clown thinks that Engine Joe is fat
Still he wouldn't talk about Engine Joe like that
Once upon a time there was a race car racer,
heat

put it up now for the dirty south

southern fried now all up in your mouth

it's that hip hop shit with the southern twist

and you pick em up
[Fat Joe] 

Yeah  don't get it fucked up 

This shit is realer than you think 

Goin out to all them niggaz gettin cream 

Drivin them
niggas rollin those, fontos and hydros
You know how that goes, DE's light it up though
We stay smokin it, tone-locin it, 
me and Fat Joe still provoking
Yeah, I'm in this bitch wit' da terror
Got a handful of stacks
Better grab an umbrella
I make it rain, I make it rain
I'm in this bitch for terror
strippin' and they show they breasts
And they all think Joe the best

Well it's on if they got no regrets
Bring them hoes to the low crib by the lake
Money talks, listen, mmm-hmm-hmm, money talks
Dirty cash I want you, dirty cash I need you, woh-oh
Money talks, money talks
Dirty cash I want you,
Yeah, I'm in this bitch wit' da terror
Got a handful of stacks
Better grab an umbrella
I make it rain, I make it rain
I'm in this bitch for terror
Rain Rain Rain

There'd be no sleet or snow
To help the big fat wheat to grow
To make the donuts with the sparkly tops
There'd be no meat or fish
stay smokin it, tone-locin it, 

me and Fat Joe still provoking it 

Chorus 

(ha ha, mad rappers, stain off, range off, watch out
Speak on it man 

Verse 1-Fat Joe 

This ain't for the intelligent civilized divas 

for all the hoes and bitches who swallow nut by the leiters
my dirty Jesse James
The CEO of dirty and he go by Cornell Haynes
Mean-mugging all you niggas like I hopped up out your dame
I'm like uh-oh, there
where you flagged him down
There was a bus load of kids, comin' from town
And they were right in the middle, when Big Joe topped the hill
It could have
punchin body blows and uppercuts 



[Fat Joe] 

The South Bronx is the wrong place to visit 

I don't know an MC who has enough balls to diss it
the waiter Big Joe was setting me up
You could've heard a pin drop
It got deathly quiet and the waiter face turned kinda white
Did I say something wrong I said
to a pulp
It's the F-A-T, to the, J-O-E
Drink Cris' with the Feds when they come for me
No cuffs, no guns, they respect a G
Number one with a slug, what
dead
So go to sleep - now, throats is splitted
and folks that get it they gotta get the hell on widdit, BIATCH

[Chorus: Fat Joe]
Yo, yo, all these
Never jump up in-a mi face 'cause I gun
Never judge a book by di cover, dat's wrong
Dis is Fat Joe alongside di Banton
Hey, what about Pun?
Rudeboy,
(feat. Akon)

[Fat Joe] 
Shawty I beat it, anytime you need me 
To me your the most beautiful girl, easy 
Nothin' feels better then the love