Fat Joe - Paper Touchin (Remix Part Three) lyrics

[Intro: Latif] Paper touchin! I don't know if your money right but a n***a like me got paper [Hook: Latif] (Red Cafe) I don't know if your money right but a n***a like me got paper (HUH!) I don't know what your money like but a n***a like me 'bout paper (Red Cafe!) I'm 'bout paper, I'm 'bout paper (That's all!) All my n***as gettin paper We got paper, we got paper (You know I'm cooler than the other side of the pillow) All my hustlers got paper [Verse 1: Red Cafe] Listen up hustlers, I treat them bricks Like the Wheel Of Fortune spin it, that's why I'm rich (DAMN!) Sick, I should have been in Saw IV But I'm numero uno trick draw four HEY! I wave at the haters They know it's me I be wearin all the lasers Shakedown, we paper touch Ever since I came home and escaped the cuffs Cafe, servin the East to the West! (WHAT ELSE!) I got 'em on E like Ryan Seacrest (WHAT ELSE!) The Wire said keep the devil in the hole (THAT'S ALL!) But I'm the chef my kettle is never cold It's whatever for the dough, whatever on the 'flo Like I'm from 'Frisco just tell me when to go (WALLA!) Memorial Day in M-I-A! I made it Hurricane Chris, Ay Bay Bay [Verse 2: Fat Joe] Coca baby, you know the streets we run this You n***as wanna talk crazy, till they catch at least a hundred OWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!! The internet say the beef gone digital Nah I'm in The Bronx like in the block with the criminals Gat on the side but the Mac make him miserable You n***as piss sittin down like my sister do A Bronx legend like Boy George and Chicken Boo Them Damou's keep hollerin out that SOO WOO!!!!!!! Haters, leave 'em front of the bodega My n***a Arnold Schwartzenegger couldn't take us I'm ready for war I'm callin 'em out Where you at? Pulp Fiction red ball in his mouth I'm too real, Joe to ill We run this sh** wonder how Pun feel [Hook: Latif] (Red Cafe) I don't know if your money right but a n***a like me got paper I don't know what your money like but a n***a like me 'bout paper I'm 'bout paper, I'm 'bout paper (WHAT ELSE!!!) All my n***as gettin paper We got paper, we got paper (THAT'S ALL!!!) All my hustlers got paper [Verse 3: Jadakiss] HA-HAH!!!! Yeah.. Yo, if it look like a good write-off, I'm chargin it (uh-huh) The Gucci napsack got a couple large in it (yep) The CD player got El Debarge in it (hah) Laid back, while your girl's ma**agin it (woo!) I keep my loot saved, sell mad crack Other than that, stay in the crib and watch bootlegs (yep) Polo robe on, Louis Vuitton cleathers Thick R&B chick, gettin my Hov on (OH!!) Soon as we unwrap 'em, cuttin the stove on Cook 'em, cut 'em, and bag 'em then I'm gettin my O's on I don't pay attention to internet bloggers (nah) I really get it in, wit the murderers and robbers (yea) This is what a goon'll do Treat your gravesite like a urinal then YouTube your funeral (hahaha) It's just Jada (yea), and I might see you in hell Much later, but right now I'mma touch paper [Verse 4: Fabolous] Baby, I touch paper, so much paper We can split it down the middle like Dutch paper And fo' real, I don't even call it paper I got money out the a**, so it's toilet paper Shorty good money in the back area (Woo!) Curve on her hip make me wanna Blackberry her And everybody talkin duffle bag sh** Only paper in is prol'ly what they stuff the bag with (fo' real) My swag fit like it's tailor-made yo New York love me, I got a tailor-made flow Oh naw, I ain't who to go hard wit My young boy'll do the job like the Omar hit, sheeiiiiiiittttttttt! [Hook: Latif] (Red Cafe) (*Ca**idy) I don't know if your money right but a n***a like me got paper I don't know what your money like but a n***a like me 'bout paper I'm 'bout paper, I'm 'bout paper (WHAT ELSE!!!) All my n***as gettin paper (*Yeah! Yeah!) We got paper, we got paper (THAT'S ALL!!!) All my hustlers got paper (*We touchin paper over here) [Verse 5: Ca**idy] I'm paper touchin, hustlin, servin ev'ryday You could even flip birds or flip burgers ev'ryday You could work at Micky D's if you ain't workin with the keys I'm a person that'll squeeze if I ain't workin with the cheese I air n***as out but when you tear n***as out of the frame They say your name and start workin with the D's Now certain n***as wreckless But the same dude that try murk you for your necklace be workin with detectives They rats but they know that snitches get ditches That's why you see vest's on certain n***as chest's (UH HUH!!!) I guess if you from Kiladelphia Pistolvania You gotta be a pistol banger I'm the boss type off white crystal slanger Keep a full clip and one in the pistol chamber So if you cross the hustler or my man Red Cafe! You probably 'gon be dead that day! [Outro: Akon] Konvict!!!!!