Lyrics:
you
Ligma balls nigga ligma dolls
Now this bitch wanna see possessed dolls
All up in my room
But I'm dressed in red but I'm blessed by the Christ nigga
durin' backyard wrasslin
Overalls coverin' their fat lard asses up
Your cousin isn't someone that you have to fuck
Claimin' that you're Irish but you have
bumrushing them hoes like Joe Klecko
It's hard to get a ticket like the Funkmaster Flex show
Even fat girls get twist into pretzels, Tony Starks special
untamed by the children in this game
Tre, go grab them things, we gon' get paid, man
Joe Casey know a n**** wan' buy some things
I start in the hood, I
Joe]
Word up, I don't front
I just keep it on the rise, and give you what you want
[Defari]
(What you need)
Here, don't fear peep this
you really need a pro
Cause my shit's more rugged than G.I. Joe
Don't front honey, act like you know
Now big up to my Brooklyn mob (Brooklyn!
link fence by the gate
Somebody's daddy's out there
Honkin' on the horn
Hurry up, we're gonna make him late
I gotta say one, two, three
More things
in twos.
I got a dirty feeling that warms up to booze.
& if you ain’t heard the rumors, I got the news.
Whatever’s been done, you know I’m stealin.
Ahhh that's a fine cup of joe.
A damn fine cup of joe by golly
Welcome welcome, gather round, gather round my plump little dumplings
And you tweekers
hit it from the back though
I don't fuck with no fat hoe (Nooo)
Money large like Fat Joe
Niggas saying that they got a strap, but I'm telling niggas
clockwork
(Ring, ring)
It’s shower time!
“Come on big boy, you’re all mine”
Ah, I cry! Fat Joe trying to rape me, not again
Would've thought he got enough
ya brain
Pollute ya city cuz I spit that cooked cain
Thanks fat joe cuz you described us best
Now it's non stop packs look at this big mess
You left us
Artist: DJ Envy f/ Jay-Z
Album: Blok Party Vol. 1
Song: H.O.V.A.
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash
[Jay-Z] + (DJ Envy)
Yo uh, dim
likes you, like I like you
I'm aight with her, she aight with me, be my part time loverr..
[Verse 2]
Girl your ass fat like Joe, you real sweet like Ja
King,
But follow Jon Gotti, Joe Pesci, armed robbery,
Hard body, body hard doggy fuck up your bodyguard,
Dolly call us the shotty ma,
Y'all'll call up
the get-a-long game would come through and make amends,
And by the end of the week they were all super friends.
G I Joe would get all riled up again,
Guns
really hope i don't mess this up
I'm sorry I sound mad my music gets down when the mood's bad
I'm stuck sat at home and it feels rad don't worry this track
I catch a opp and I'm making them pay
Pockets fat like "Hey hey hey"
Don't call my phone if your number ain't saved
Yes I'm high right now
Feel alive
way to express
Explaining myself
Now I beats producers from a paper and pen
I'm blazing again
Mixing the calligraphy fat caps
Back in my open mic times
won't I get through
If there's a God I think He's got to bottle up and go
If there's still a God in heaven He's got to hit that lonesome road
No more
up a fat nest egg
I say fuck you, it's easy, say it again FUCK YOU
Love love to rock bottom beats for the flicks
To hibernate and syncopate but
the true and certified who resided pimpin' back
Fat Joe is good coke and the crack in the flesh
Young Jeezy the snow man
But I pack is the best
So when
Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up
It's the New Era like a cap
But I ain't cappin'
Bringin' new terror like Joe but I ain't fat'n
The fact is
Kill
[Donald D]
In the street, blood is spilled
My sniper skills make me lethal and ill
{*buck buck buck*} the fat lady sang
From the ceiling I watch your
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