Murder Rap-Fat Joe

Album by: Jealous Ones Still Envy （j.o.s.e.） Artist by: Fat Joe [fat joe] Uh-oh, uh-oh.. Lets get it over with. Yo sound boy turn the levels up Lets get it over with, uh! Terror squad up in this motherf**ker Where my real *z at? My bronx *z, my (? ) *z I see you lil hat! uh, ahaha! Its time to take it to these *z right here Yeah.. yo.. yo.. Who wanna spaz out? crunchtime, blow ya abs out Leave you in the fetal position, witcha a** out Ready to mash out any crew actin like They the true facts of life, frontin through the camera lights Despite, we hold it down regardless I got def jam suckin me like, I wish you was my artist For starters, whos the largest cat? Get a hundred grand from my most garbage rap Now how hard is that? everything we spit be hot Whether its live on flex or in front of the chicken spot Grimed out, we really live whatchu rhyme bout See me posted up in the tunnel, with my shines out Ice cold like alaska when I pass ya Got girls shakin, losin they breath, as if they catchin asthma Headed to the bar to pop some bottles Now we in the car headed home to rock some models All I hear in the background is gucci and prada But Im tryna gas these b**ches to screw me for nada We the best that done it, confess you fronted Anybody wanna test how much straps, you want it? [hook - fat joe] Aiyyo the gangstas back Stop it right where you at Let a real ni**a rock real murderer rap Tell them thug *z, listen to that Gotchu feelin it hard like joe the gods really bringin it back! [fat joe] Im from my days and legends, since age eleven I was the cause of d**e fiends catchin aids infections Most of us are dead, but the rest is locked Runnin in the rec room and check me out on the box A ceo could get optioned tryna change the channel Its like tryna take the flesh outta the mouth of hungry cannibals Joe the god, the flow is hard Known for packin two dozen birds like noahs ark Im the realest of em, make you feel the pressure Catch you at a club, smack you up, steal ya leather You *z soften me, beat you out of the mix Tough talk, tough walk, but you cry like a b**ch I see you downin the cris, Im not hatin, Im just aggrevated I ask myself every day, how these faggots made it? F**k around with the don and get decapitated Im sick of hearin em (? ) for all the cats that made it [hook - fat joe] [hook 2 - armageddon] Aiyyo the kid is back Leave it right where you at Let a real ni**a hold that, you probably wont clap Tell them thug *z, move it on back Im feelin tight and Im hot Ready to pop the crack right through your back [armageddon] Thats how kenny rocks, Im more advanced than how your learnin Im like the force of space balance and planets while they churnin Poppin rosary beads, piss on ya candle while its burnin Rush ya widows crib and pop ya... bodies... Now I know you can feel the heat I generate Imagine when I penetrate ya stomach, and make ya bodys center bake We can argue for days, whether its faster to drop five shots In ya astronaut before you cloud the stash box Splash ya brains on ya birds laps Swerve you on the curb, crash the range, and push the front skirt back And murk after that, blurtin curse words Yo I popped that *s son one before we catch the first Ima kill any murderer, leave a ni**a burpin up Blood, chokin on chunks of his lung interior Every verse that I spits a personal riff I meet a ill key frontin, Im a murder you sh*t *z play me while distrubin the bricks Im like the feelin of the first time they ever held a bird in they grip Motivator thug, scrape em, shoot the bolts in his butt Energizin em up, make em wanna open em up Actin like I cant happen till I smack him in his adams apple Death to rappin, I dont wanna battle Id rather rush your studio session and shatter the booth Clap at ya face, give the mic feedback the goof [hook] [hook 2]