Lyrics:
niggas fighting and shit"
On the real, I should make these niggas scrap for the pussy
Young M.A., Lady Luck, get the strap for this pussy, uh
And I
chins and a line of jive
He's a mellow old cat, a real hep fat
He be Mister Five by Five
That man can really jump it for a fat man
The only trouble
is like that green stuff
Provided to you by sack man
Pacman how in the fuck do you think we gon' do that, man?
Ridin' round Old National
dinero
Like Joe Pesci, Hov' is so deadly
In the middle of the ocean, racin on jet skits (*PYOOM!*)
Get your mind right or get it on your left sleeve
This rap shit divided by panty lines, mm, which side are you on? (Pussy)
Social media got you fuckin' in pantomime, damn, why that line so long?
not pretty and I'm not cool
But I'm fat and I'm ugly and proud, so fuck you
Standing out is the new pretension
Streamline the sickness, half-assed
your spleen and chest
There's a darkside of Texas too, word to syndicate
No matter how intricate shit gets, the hit you get
Joe Crack, yeah man
niggaz do real things
Hanging wit the bitches is the song I sing
Real niggaz do real
Real big nigga's over here talkin' shit
Yo fuck that, I'm gon'
caught up by the side of her breastses
She'll murder you while eating your breakfast
You'll die wanting to try how good her sex is
Baby's shit wiggle
Maybach shit
Cameras in the ceiling, Seline on my arm
We get ghost, you already know what it is
Money stuffed in my bag
Maybach shit
Bright lights
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
Harold Melvin sample
I played it for Hip over the phone
He's like, "Oh, yo that shit is crazy
Jay might want it for this compilation album he doin'
fucking shining on
Back to biz, new address with the fat crib
My shit in the wiz, poli'-in with the big wigs
[Chorus Erick Sermon: x2]
Off the meter,
mobbin', shit!
Go, go! Nigga, we mobbin'
Now, we every place that we go, they say we can't smoke
But we do it anyway, cause real G's smoke when they
that kill, kill
She shake it, it feel real
The paper flowin' still, now that bitch wanna chill
Damn, this shit stay chill
My homies the real deal, we
a female Joe Pesci
And I want to make her a made woman
and I hope she gon' let me, cause she looks so sexy
[Interlude: R. Kelly]
OHH! And this is for
better have my money (I stay feelin' myself)
I don't see anybody but me (man, I'm killin' myself)
And this shit too real (and this shit too real)
See
cr- cr- cr- cr-crack)
Yeah
New York, yeah, we got a problem
And I ain't talking that saw the god (nope)
It's that beef shit
That real street shit
dough, to hit the studio
Blowin, niggaz ain't knowin, how far this shit is goin
I wrote all my shit, but niggaz always talkin bout what I owe them
But
did and do shit that's better than new shit (what)
Fit for two clips (what)
The kid is a nuisance (yeah)
Aw man, he's inspired by his own gangsta
it's hatin when your skaten and your pockets is fat
Don't act for a minute like your ass surprised
Just reconize the real way that gangsta's ride
If
weak" is the last quote
That I wanna hear when I'm goin' down
When all's said and done and we got a new joe in town
When the record player get
spit venom
You're a bad bitch with a real good kitten
And I got the appetite of them fat black women
Wolf Gang in this bitch with a bunch of rats with
One]
I feel blessed by Finesse and Lord Jamar, sess my interest
is invested in, testin men like lab specimens
My daily regiment of elemental babble
Discuss these shit is real by fat joe Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In