Lyrics:
renegade, must stay paid
Not by financial aid, but a raid of hits
Causing me to take long trips
I'm the original teacher of this type of style
Rockin'
name is DJ Run
Shoots a gift like a gun
Slays suckers one by one
Rather chill than kill
Cause the killing's no fun
So together forever
Crew be
right now, pick up a pound
Enjoy and lounge with style, y'all know my name by now
[ chorus ]
[ outro: fat joe ]
No doubt
Cuban link, baby
'99
Terror
that hit the charts
Album poppin so we hit the news
Finally found a girl that could pierce my heart
I'm not goin mad its the juice
Man its a free for
Hmm
New Patek on my wrist
White diamonds, them shits hit pink
I'm ready
New Patek on my wrist (yeah)
White diamonds and them shits hit pink
album's hot and your album's not
I done been getting movie deals
I done been getting paid like Vinzel
I done been by ?
And five double o's
And 1 2's
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
Tired of these rappers, tired of these jackers
I'm tired of these dances by these fuckin' backpackers
And I'm sick of all these hipsters, I'm sick
nigga Joe you used
To fool with, what happened to him?
[Ann:] Man, Joe was trippin, man,
you know he owed some nigga some money, and you know,
if you
daddy go hit a lick
Ya both walking round dead broke, then both of y'all ain't doing shit!
Need a real bitch that's loyalty to me, cute face with a fat
Tell me, what you tryna do when you come down on me
A hundred bars a couple minutes then you hit the alpha league
Whoever spits the best is doing
petit Québec
Si t’essaies de flex pogne une deuxième hypothèque
Ti-Joe connaissant j’peux battle ton Google Home
Paye mon home studio avec tes student
livres ça écrase les moustiques (bzz)
Un doigt dans l'engrenage puis j'rentre au bercail
C't'album y'a mille mains un peu comme les Hentais (mais nan)
Cet
Niggas in the city were it's beef
Drop a album for the whole youth niggas know it's real
Member going to the food stamps office with my pops that
smokin' and you know I got that pack, I got that sack
I got that O, I hit the club I lose control
I smoke that loud, I know the grower
Ball like
best friends know me
When I'm scooping you up they a all joe me
I keep a pole
No they won't hoe me
If we ever break up we can be homies
Hit up da trap
are slow so
Just listen every line by line lemme finish
Yo
Pizzagate politicians man who we kiddin'
They want us wearing dresses if
We rapping for
a rusty screwdriver, blaow (I'll fuckin')
I'll fuckin', I'll fuckin' hang you by your fuckin' dick
Off the fuckin twelve story building out this
a rusty screwdriver, blaow (I'll fuckin')
I'll fuckin', I'll fuckin' hang you by your fuckin' dick
Off the fuckin twelve story building out this
Why you wanna be my Zanna? Why you wanna be my Zanna?
80k streams on an album by myself, started wvvy crew and I did that by myself
I remember 2017 all
Trice, Emil hit 'em, let's go
Ob Trice, the giant, standing a 5'8" stature
Back with a second album, supplying ya Fear Factor
But Joe ain't the host
[ Rodney O ]
Wake up, New York
It's time to listen to L.A.
(Wake up)
In this business you are left unknown till you have a hit
Now I'm gonna
the world grooving, grooving
Uh uh uh, alright, uh huh
Now if you want to step
You gotta play it by the rules
You gotta do what I do
When I do, what I
boys and her name is Mary Jane
'Cause I burn (big dope) with my dogs
Joe Clay rolled a blunt so big this shit look like a log
In my dressing room but
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