[Intro: Fat Joe (Joell Ortiz)]
Cook! (Yeah!)
Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah, uhh
It's that k**a crack street music
(It's that Block Royal, Terror Squad music)
Crack, cook (Joell Ortiz n***a)
Listen (Knobody, WHAT UP!)
[Chorus: Joell Ortiz (Fat Joe)]
One shot, two shot, three shot, OHH! OHH!
That'll send him right to the morgue
Four shot, five shot, six shot, sh**, sh**
That's for the wife and the kids
(I don't care about your money or that sh** on your chest)
n***az get k**ed for less!
(And all that sh** you be talkin man we ain't impressed)
n***az get k**ed for less!
[Fat Joe]
Whether, closed caption or high definition
You could probably find me on that big screen, diamonds glistenin
"Ain't this a b**h man? That's Joey from the Bronx
And all the dirt he done, how the f** he mix the songs n***a?"
He ain't lyin, I'm a chemist on that table
My needle with the beige make the competition hate you
Couple d**hs on the block, now they rate you
Lil' Dex'll pull the trigger if I say shoot
One shot, two shot, 'nother n***a down
CSI searchin but his face can't be found n***a
sh** is crazy on the streets of the Bronx
n***az yellin "Shots fired" but police won't respond
Where I'm from n***az pump that ba**
And holler at your lil' sister right in front of your face n***a
The working man's a s**er you heard, see
n***a's gettin hot for twenty years, still thirsty
I guess they share a bond with the 'caine
Now that's what I call rekindlin old flames
Get it? Who else but Coca in the Rover?
Sports kitted, coulda been my 'ghini or my 'rossa
Life is for the living, get a chauffeur
Find yourself a b**h that don't mind eatin chocha
We spit murder, you's a victim, boy
If that a** get flashy we'll stick ya, boy!
[Chorus]
[Joell Ortiz]
Nah.. so don't die over nothin, let your lil' crew gas ya a**
Cause on my block I was the Doc, before Aftermath
I had that, rock in the spot the fiends had to blast
When I, chopped it with pop and shoot past the gla**
See I really hustle homie, this ain't no fabrication
They never called me back, I filled out many applications
Watchin these corny n***az come up, that was aggravatin
So I hit the corner, told 'em beat it like they masturbatin
I tried to have the patience
I asked God for the answers, he took too long to respond so I had a chat with Satan
He told me my dreams ain't have to stay imagination
Turned my wrecked Timbs to a stretch Benz for my graduation
Had all the lil' s*uts at my prom salivatin
Scooped my diploma, I'm gone but I kept on calculatin
Colleges holla cause every grade I had's amazin
It was school books or cool looks when I pa** with Daytons
Clappin at plays or hearin my new Magnum flamin
Schoolgirls or I'ma earl, look who this ba*tard's blazin
Long story short, man I had these f*ggots hatin
I'm handsome, I'm cool, I got guap, and I get it crack-a-latin
I come from the place where you get your hood pa**es made in
A brook where the only thing shook's on the stove marinatin
So when they say congratulations over the respect my pad is gainin
Know I ain't goin back, I'm aimin like
[Chorus]
[Outro: Fat Joe]
AOWWWW! That's what the f** I'm talkin about
That real gangsta music, b*atch!
Like that sh**, you like how that sh** sounds n***a
BLAT!