Lyrics:
I was born with an old soul
So when I hear what you bump it sounds so so
I remember Fat Joe with the Fo Fo
Went way harder than you
Hoes spittin' old
And ain't no jokin'
Fresh like fat-laces and dukey ropes and I keep on smokin'
Young but I'm ready, so that means I'm strokin'
If you pet me nowadays,
spends, making snaps, pumping Kool G Rap and Biz
Dapper Don, Dookie wrotes I'm about to show what time it is
At the rooftop, I was with Doug E
them no go take pas my turf
This bars are cleavage I’m a bitch if I don’t get it off my chest
Brain wasn’t gifted by a fat man who ride
Deers
I
and DJ Pen make the wheels spin
Let's make some noise for the Baka Boyz
DJ Dee and Hen Gee in the place to be
Joe Cooley and Mark and Evil E
Master
and my man Fat Joe
My man O.G. and the rest of the homies
The Zulu Nation for the foundation
From when I was a kid watchin Lost In Space, and
I never
And ain't no jokin'
Fresh like fat-laces and dukey ropes and I keep on smokin'
Young but I'm ready, so that means I'm strokin'
If you pet me nowadays,
pain penicilin crack and AZT couldn't relieve
Being Sizzlean I will trim the fat like Susan Powders
Disrespectin burners like cap, lickin off
flow
To bring in some plaques so
Sit back and pack cones
Picture myself in a black ghost
Bumpin' Fat Joe
"Y'all wanna live my lifestyle"
I be places that
Everlast, Estelle, EPMD
Kuck wieviel Platten ich hab, im Plattenregal
Bei F steht Freundeskreis, Foxy
Fat Joe und Fugees
Bei G, Ghettoboys, Game und auch
One mental block lead to another, shit it's dominos
Mixtape Sean, but I'm in album mode, ooh
She give me praise, I love her angel face
Ass so fat she
to show what time it is
At the rooftop, I was with Doug E.Fresh and Slick Rick
'La Di Da Di, Who likes to party?' was the fat shit
I mean I saw this
of a master
You never thought you'd be bodied by a bastard
A bachelor who backspin on breakbeats
Break necks of broke souls who hate me
Hate he? you can't
over here
Over here, over here
Over here, over here
Over here, over here
Ayo, fuck all that, it's the fat young Jesus
Flow prestigious
Stackin'
my nephew, so you know we got the juice
Loose lips sink ships, trip this for a second
I'm all the way up on this Fat Joe record
Don't let me down,
shits, at like forty-seven cops
Call me Doc D, get on my dick, you carbon copy
I just illegally downloaded the Kid Cudi album (great scott)
And got
eraser
Put it up in the sky, nice and high, wave it side to side
Screaming rub e'm out, rub e'm out
Goodbye hater
Cya wouldn't wanna be ya
Fuck your
parlay and desi
E C the mob
Gotti and pesci
You fuckin’ wit’ 12
Like laura and eddie
Damn
Better make way
Album dropping
Niggas screaming may day
From
I am trouble in the flesh, you can't see me with the Hubble
We ain't wishin these niggaz good luck, go get a clover
This Bun B, it's "B.E. 3," this
shit is mad hot)
Give a whistle if you hear this, can't best me
Try to keep my lyrics short and fat like Joe Pesci
God bless me
Know what I'm
Some work at Wimpy
Gotta crush, hot and heavy on an MC
And like Fat Joe, jealous ones envy
Pacewon, you want to be like me
Carhartt cap on, new pair
say "Fuck him!" for doing the tracks
Matter of fact, fuck Fat Beats, for doing the wax
I'ma diss you via e-mail and then through a fax
I'ma diss you by
crooked, Joe got me buzzing it's a tease
Ortiz artisans with the pen, making this artist find the thread
See the intent, 45 cents in my pocket, hot in this
z
I guess by now you can tell you miss me
The baddest motherfucker in rap history
One to the temple put you out your misery
That's not an album
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