Lyrics:
Why you mad? why you mad bro?
Lean back nigga fat joe
You know I’m just tryna get the bag yo
We like lol to the bank though
True talk (Yeah)
Look
25/8 I a never let the bag go
Just beccuz u flexxxin on the Gram don't make you bad h**
Choppas make a n**** lean back Like he fat joe
Never had
Spit facts like my teeth leak venom
These rats we eat like dinner
Lean back, lean back, fat joe when I'm whipping
Eyes open looking right at the mirror
you nigga,
I got the 40/40 made by two jiggas,
I make you "Holla, Holla", I Ja Rule niggas!
The lion's in the room, what up Fat Joe?
I'm Curtis'
not vitamin water
Fat cause I'm so rich, rich cause I'm so hood
Uzi your whole whip, nigga I'm that hood
You flow cold but joe flow sicker
Even
Ain't no thottie by my side, I got on my legs (yeah)
(Gimme head, bitch)
(When I'm sad, bitch)
(E-girl, fat ass, ain't no average)
(Ain't no
Scoliosis, give your girl a diagnosis
Bars so hard put you in a hypnosis
Skinny boys but our pockets are fat
Big Baller B and ya boy beetlebat
betting
You lack talent, tryna stick to that trap shit
On my way to the green, I'll be glad to Hulk Smash it
Fat Joe, Remy Ma when I'm Rapping
Cause
Off the liquor got me leaning like I'm fat joe
I'ma keep it to the point cause it's facts though
Imma stay up in nose cause A nigga that Dope
I'm
I wanna move out to Rio thou
Baby I'm saucy like sloppy joe
I'm going nuts like pistachio
You know I do not tell lies
But my dick in my pants
Gonna
we're I use to sell my crack at!
(All day)
Fat Joe! Make em lean back?
(Haha)
Maserati matching wit the rims all jet black!
(Scurrr)
Maserati matching
home runs all night
Then bye bye, back on her flight
Lil nigga but I tote fat Joe, big pun
It's beef, get shot on sight
I'm good im straight, Aight
Thow
sleepy joe
Pop my shi then pop your hoe
15 racks designer clothes
CDG no play this Homme
PDUBS’ my niggas goats
See these keys I run you over
Your
And don't chill-out too hard or you'll be out of the box
Stop running your face and try to listen instead
Or you'll be known as a loud-mouth Joe Rockhead
got me singing this song
Love the way you turn me on
(Fat Joe)
Yo, push your seat back, ma feel who you rolling wit
Relax, and let Crack take
coast to coastin'
Rub it on your skin like lotion
What's the commotion? Oh my Lord
Another cord chopped by the Wu-Tang sword
Hey, hey, hey, like Fat
coast to coastin'
Rub it on your skin like lotion
What's the commotion? Oh my Lord
Another cord chopped by the Wu-Tang sword
Hey, hey, hey, like Fat
don't go to church
More time I had more faith in cunch
Her ass fat I can tell from the front
My pocket fat you can tell by the watch
Before I buy ice
Okay, now take a trip inside my mind like you was off to Venice
It's me and B-I-G L-N-B-O cooking like chemists
Take them back to way back when
nigga started this shit
[Chorus]
Be careful what you ask for, Joe got bagged
He got knocked by the feds for some things in his past
Now he rattin'
Maybe its the way I do (Keep mamies like)
Joe I wanna fuck wit you (Keep sayin' that)
I don't know what it is
All I know it that this chick
Is gon'
with incredible bars, I'm a Bruce Way newer than Lou Ferrigno
Force you in the corner before you blackout you gon' lose at bingo
Joe be eyeing
on cops
(Facts)
Did a hunnid and forty when I hit the block
(Facts)
They lying bout they lifestyle
And the ways
You know me
Im still be driving
Guided by
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
That's og mixed with pink runts yeah
That's og mixed with pink runts you Can tell by the way i cough
I rarely take
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