Album by: Jealous Ones Still Envy （j.o.s.e.）
Artist by: Fat Joe
Uh-oh, uh-oh..
Lets get it over with.
Yo sound boy turn the levels up
Lets get it over with, uh!
Terror squad up in this motherf**ker
Where my real *z at?
My bronx *z, my (? ) *z
I see you lil hat! uh, ahaha!
Its time to take it to these *z right here
Yeah.. yo.. yo..
Who wanna spaz out? crunchtime, blow ya abs out
Leave you in the fetal position, witcha a** out
Ready to mash out any crew actin like
They the true facts of life, frontin through the camera lights
Despite, we hold it down regardless
I got def jam suckin me like, I wish you was my artist
For starters, whos the largest cat?
Get a hundred grand from my most garbage rap
Now how hard is that? everything we spit be hot
Whether its live on flex or in front of the chicken spot
Grimed out, we really live whatchu rhyme bout
See me posted up in the tunnel, with my shines out
Ice cold like alaska when I pass ya
Got girls shakin, losin they breath, as if they catchin asthma
Headed to the bar to pop some bottles
Now we in the car headed home to rock some models
All I hear in the background is gucci and prada
But Im tryna gas these b**ches to screw me for nada
We the best that done it, confess you fronted
Anybody wanna test how much straps, you want it?
Aiyyo the gangstas back
Stop it right where you at
Let a real ni**a rock real murderer rap
Tell them thug *z, listen to that
Gotchu feelin it hard like joe the gods really bringin it back!
Im from my days and legends, since age eleven
I was the cause of d**e fiends catchin aids infections
Most of us are dead, but the rest is locked
Runnin in the rec room and check me out on the box
A ceo could get optioned tryna change the channel
Its like tryna take the flesh outta the mouth of hungry cannibals
Joe the god, the flow is hard
Known for packin two dozen birds like noahs ark
Im the realest of em, make you feel the pressure
Catch you at a club, smack you up, steal ya leather
You *z soften me, beat you out of the mix
Tough talk, tough walk, but you cry like a b**ch
I see you downin the cris, Im not hatin, Im just aggrevated
I ask myself every day, how these faggots made it?
F**k around with the don and get decapitated
Im sick of hearin em (? ) for all the cats that made it
Aiyyo the kid is back
Leave it right where you at
Let a real ni**a hold that, you probably wont clap
Tell them thug *z, move it on back
Im feelin tight and Im hot
Ready to pop the crack right through your back
Thats how kenny rocks, Im more advanced than how your learnin
Im like the force of space balance and planets while they churnin
Poppin rosary beads, piss on ya candle while its burnin
Rush ya widows crib and pop ya... bodies...
Now I know you can feel the heat I generate
Imagine when I penetrate ya stomach, and make ya bodys center bake
We can argue for days, whether its faster to drop five shots
In ya astronaut before you cloud the stash box
Splash ya brains on ya birds laps
Swerve you on the curb, crash the range, and push the front skirt back
And murk after that, blurtin curse words
Yo I popped that *s son one before we catch the first
Ima kill any murderer, leave a ni**a burpin up
Blood, chokin on chunks of his lung interior
Every verse that I spits a personal riff
I meet a ill key frontin, Im a murder you sh*t
*z play me while distrubin the bricks
Im like the feelin of the first time they ever held a bird in they grip
Motivator thug, scrape em, shoot the bolts in his butt
Energizin em up, make em wanna open em up
Actin like I cant happen till I smack him in his adams apple
Death to rappin, I dont wanna battle
Id rather rush your studio session and shatter the booth
Clap at ya face, give the mic feedback the goof
Artist by: Fat Joe
Uh-oh, uh-oh..
Lets get it over with.
Yo sound boy turn the levels up
Lets get it over with, uh!
Terror squad up in this motherf**ker
Where my real *z at?
My bronx *z, my (? ) *z
I see you lil hat! uh, ahaha!
Its time to take it to these *z right here
Yeah.. yo.. yo..
Who wanna spaz out? crunchtime, blow ya abs out
Leave you in the fetal position, witcha a** out
Ready to mash out any crew actin like
They the true facts of life, frontin through the camera lights
Despite, we hold it down regardless
I got def jam suckin me like, I wish you was my artist
For starters, whos the largest cat?
Get a hundred grand from my most garbage rap
Now how hard is that? everything we spit be hot
Whether its live on flex or in front of the chicken spot
Grimed out, we really live whatchu rhyme bout
See me posted up in the tunnel, with my shines out
Ice cold like alaska when I pass ya
Got girls shakin, losin they breath, as if they catchin asthma
Headed to the bar to pop some bottles
Now we in the car headed home to rock some models
All I hear in the background is gucci and prada
But Im tryna gas these b**ches to screw me for nada
We the best that done it, confess you fronted
Anybody wanna test how much straps, you want it?
Aiyyo the gangstas back
Stop it right where you at
Let a real ni**a rock real murderer rap
Tell them thug *z, listen to that
Gotchu feelin it hard like joe the gods really bringin it back!
Im from my days and legends, since age eleven
I was the cause of d**e fiends catchin aids infections
Most of us are dead, but the rest is locked
Runnin in the rec room and check me out on the box
A ceo could get optioned tryna change the channel
Its like tryna take the flesh outta the mouth of hungry cannibals
Joe the god, the flow is hard
Known for packin two dozen birds like noahs ark
Im the realest of em, make you feel the pressure
Catch you at a club, smack you up, steal ya leather
You *z soften me, beat you out of the mix
Tough talk, tough walk, but you cry like a b**ch
I see you downin the cris, Im not hatin, Im just aggrevated
I ask myself every day, how these faggots made it?
F**k around with the don and get decapitated
Im sick of hearin em (? ) for all the cats that made it
Aiyyo the kid is back
Leave it right where you at
Let a real ni**a hold that, you probably wont clap
Tell them thug *z, move it on back
Im feelin tight and Im hot
Ready to pop the crack right through your back
Thats how kenny rocks, Im more advanced than how your learnin
Im like the force of space balance and planets while they churnin
Poppin rosary beads, piss on ya candle while its burnin
Rush ya widows crib and pop ya... bodies...
Now I know you can feel the heat I generate
Imagine when I penetrate ya stomach, and make ya bodys center bake
We can argue for days, whether its faster to drop five shots
In ya astronaut before you cloud the stash box
Splash ya brains on ya birds laps
Swerve you on the curb, crash the range, and push the front skirt back
And murk after that, blurtin curse words
Yo I popped that *s son one before we catch the first
Ima kill any murderer, leave a ni**a burpin up
Blood, chokin on chunks of his lung interior
Every verse that I spits a personal riff
I meet a ill key frontin, Im a murder you sh*t
*z play me while distrubin the bricks
Im like the feelin of the first time they ever held a bird in they grip
Motivator thug, scrape em, shoot the bolts in his butt
Energizin em up, make em wanna open em up
Actin like I cant happen till I smack him in his adams apple
Death to rappin, I dont wanna battle
Id rather rush your studio session and shatter the booth
Clap at ya face, give the mic feedback the goof
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