 f/ Fat Joe
(Fat Joe speaking)
Yea yea, what
uh, Terror Squad
uh, from the streets to the jail cell
I mean, my niggaz is facin death penalties and all that
Charlie Rock el D
Yea yea, this go out to you my nigga
Yo, yo
Verse 1:
Aint no solution for this
Since day one I been true to this shit
Often niggaz try to shoot but they miss
I been provin to hit so you know its really real
I went from chillin on the hills to signin deals worth fitty (fifty) mil
Self made millionaire status
We all gettin money but its funny how mine makes niggaz maddest
Come at us if you ready for war
Whoever you are
Leave you dead in your hall leakin red on the floor
Better than ya'll
Niggaz need to face the facts
Since the days of crack I been blazin gats - tryin to raise my stats
Tracin back - you could find me at a racin track
Laced in black - bettin on a horse called Amazin Jack
Joey Crack's the illest - fully backed my killaz
Hoppin outta 18 wheelas - like mad gorillas
Niggaz need to calm they nerves when I'm concerned
Cause if you didn't know by now - you all gone learn
Chorus: I ain't know you really want it
How am I supposed to know theres something when you keep frontin
Dont want no people wantin to play my game
And if you really want the problems nigga say my name
Bring it on, come on
I ain't know you really want it
How am I supposed to know theres something when you keep frontin
Dont want no people wantin to play my game
And if you really want the problems nigga say my name
Bring it on, come on
Verse 2:
I puts it down with Pun
Now all I do is lounge in the sun
Look what I done from the slums - to sportin 5 thousand and ones
See the ice glitter - i only walk with them nice niggaz
Sheist niggaz that quit it for doin life niggaz
You had a judge - we came through in the clutch
Fifty fifth- aint no what to do when I came through wit'cha
The Don Polly - you could find me as fresh as Denali
In times probably even marching at a Shaufton (?) rally
I often carry thats the price of fame
Got precise the fame snipe u with the rifle and unlight your brain
It aint a game - its real niggaz with real guns
That still run - caught a box- and pump ox by the millions
Before the children thats confusin life
The voodoo type that'll pull out the UZ (uzi) and make you lose your life
The news is tight - I got em hangin by the neck
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