up on ya I'll wait a couple years, you'll be on that same corner It's kinda hard not to kill *** Like a full time job not to kill *** Oh yeah, *** is
'll wait a couple years you'll be on that same corner [Chorus: x2] Kind of hard not to kill niggaz Like a full time job not to kill niggaz Oh yeah This
Käännös: Fat Joe. Hard olla tappamatta.
ll wait a couple years you'll be on that same corner [Chorus: repeat 2X] Kind of hard not to kill niggaz Like a full time job not to kill niggaz Oh yeah
the lambs To my man Chi-Ali, silence the lambs To my man Jazzy Jay, silence the lambs To my partner Diamond D, silence the lambs To my man Fat Joe, silence
on my scrap plate yeeea yeeee (Kerry) Im gonna smoke some fuckin blunts, pop the fuckin trunk the neon lights gonna come, comin down the 'vard actin hard, not
I look back on my life it's all worth it Because I know I know my people believe me, I do it for love [Fat Joe] Yeah, yo They say Joe too selfish, he
realest Who done spoke without one joke about the illest Shit that ever happened, in this rappin beyond rappin Joe the God it ain't so hard to start
see this niggas. (Nope.) East coast, west coast. (It's all the same.) Joey Crack, Big Pun, Mack 10. (Speak on it, Joe.) Haha, niggas what! [Fat Joe
dis, now DJ Run'll be comin and gettin fiendish, my tracks are fat and in fact it's not just a lean dish, your soup and salad not valid I serve a mean
issues First off I am not for Britney Spears initials That's no BS at your request Lean back you and your crew Fat Joe TS Yeah it's young funeral Hard
through bouncin on my scrap plate yeeea yeeee (?) Im gonna smoke some fuckin blunts pop the fuckin trunk, the neon lights gonna come comin down the 'vard actin hard, not
! He gave y'all niggaz bricks on consignment CHEF! To the death and he Billboard climbin' [Fat Joe] Yeah uh Yo Don Carta' bomb harder over nearly everybody
s over, your life, it'll scare ya Visit my bro, he can tell I'm sad Staring hard at my stomach he can tell I'm fat He can tell I'm mad But step daddy
still fear 'Cause I be hangin' it hard and my shit is for real here If you battle L, you picked the wrong head I smash mics like cornbread, you can't kill
is ballin' Jumpin' out a 500-S class on brodders So you only had a nickel like me hustlin' hard 'Fore I knew I was workin' four ounces and two quarters Not
not I blow your spot, if not, Joey Crack please load the glock Let these niggaz learn the hard way The word to God way, the motherfuckin murder mob [Fat
