Lyrics:
feat. Fat Joe, JuJu, Noreaga
Uh
JuJu
Nore
Fat Joe
Tony Touch
Joe Crack 'the don'
Top of the world, we ain't gonna stop till you earl
got
that joe-shmo, to hop-off; pogo
Ho's tell me I'm a pro
But I knoe doe
Bro's wanna hear a flow
Cause they knoe doe
Oh, kid talkin' shit on the low-low?
finally set free
By the realization, all I gotta do is be me, be me
Uh, anime-lovin', video game-playin'
Put that shit in my raps, people like, "What
The fat boy for the win
Fat boy in the drip
Fat boy blowing up
Fat boy getting love
Niggas hating
Niggas hating
Niggas hating all on us
Really want
arms, bustin' guns with them
We're just thugs for life
Bustin' slugs for life
Forte', Brownsville, Gun tec unite
Fat Joe, BX you know the shit stay
everybody that all energy
Problems and all inflationary
Problems had been traced to and could
Be solved by the abolition of
MUSIC, chances are that most
I woke up one day in Vacaville
Round the corner from the pen
Fat house on the hill
All the homies in the pen straight locked down
But I gotta get
pockets fat though, fatter than fat Joe
Yeah its a facto, they in the back row
You a fiasco, my lyrics Van Gough
This ain't your mission, times up you
Mixed with Fat Joe
Make it rain yeah
I been on point for a minute
Pass me that joint for a minute
Feeling like Troy for a minute
You can't stop me
You
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
door and looks in."
"When the hell do I get something out of this?"
It's down, it's down with the clown
Fuck fat bitches and charge by the pound
I gets
starts to get hot in this bitch, I ain't talking bout Nelly
My pockets they fat than a bitch, like Fat Joe belly
(Uh, Uh Huh)
My diamonds wetter than
Guaranteed You're Going To Choke Son
Fire Smoke I'm High Joe
Eyes Low Smoke Somethin
Up Early That's Wake And Bake
Cigarillos My Pancakes
This Ain't No
so you know my ass high
Funk made by my nigga named X,
Bitches with the fat lips and fat ass, I want to sex
Check this, nuts to your chin now fin,
on top I know you like that
Don't call me Fat Joe cause I get up in that crack
Going up for real me got make you lean back
Okay, now we can do it how you
so you know my ass high
Funk made by my nigga named X,
Bitches with the fat lips and fat ass, I want to sex
Check this, nuts to your chin now fin,
When will my baby pick up the phone
Girl I want some pizza from Little Joe's
She want a burrito I go to Moe's
N then imma stop by the liquor store
Yeah
D. Jones
Yeah
Uh huh
Real talk music
Yeah
Church music
Yeah
Now if you can't respect this
Cuz this is church music
That Holy Ghost filled
Shut
up wiggle pull your pants up
If ya ass fat make it clap to this anthem
Ass all jelly so she cant help it
Sweat pants musta been made by Welch's
Cheeks
the speed of sound
Ooh, it's a killing machine
It's got everything
Like a driving power
Big fat tyres and everything
I love it and I need it, I feed
dimes
Benz turtle van
She just caught my eye
And walked by
Enter thru kitchens man
We gotta escape the long lines
I bought a zippy zip
We ordering drinks
rappers just like I was music's Auschwitz
Feed my pass time design fat rhymes each lines class crimes na na na na
Feed my pass time design fat rhymes each
Fat Joe the Don!
And Mr worldwide reporting live from the east
Ross the boss, Mr mauricio
I know paper, can buy the newspapers
Millions now, billions
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