Fat Joe - South Park/South Bronx lyrics

{*Happy Perez scratching*} [Fat Joe] Yeah Terror Squad, motherf**ers Dope House (Whoa, whoa) That n***a Joey Crack, ya heard (Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa) Uh Yeah No doubt (Yeah, uh, what) What, uh, whoa, whoa Yeah (Whoa) Uh (Uh) Yo (Uh) [Verse 1: Fat Joe] What up, Houston Same sh**, new place It's about time, ya n***as featured on a Screw tape Fat Joe and SPM, the best be them Any set tryin' to test, gone rest with 'em Man, you f**in' with Mexicans and pure boros Down a** n***as that'll blow you with the sawed-off You know you see the photos in the Lowrider mags I'm blowin' like a dragon in a loc'ed out wagon Car just saggin' and we sh**tin' on fools Chicas go crazy when they see my 22"s Forget them other dudes, man, they numbers is up Terror Squad, Dope House, who's f**in' with us I guess it's the fedi, I done got 'em all scared of us More riders, more gun, you ain't prepared for us There's no comparin' us, we real and you fake Like goin' in too deep, you can't chew straight Hook: [Fat Joe] The South Bronx The South, South Bronx [SPM] South Park The South, South Park [Fat Joe] The South Bronx The South, South Bronx [SPM] South Park The South, South Park [South Park Mexican] (Verse 2) Up jump the boogie, to the boogie down Bronx Anyone against us catchin' hot rocks You f**ing cops know who shot up the parking lot S.P. got more red dots than chicken pox Two hidden Glocks in my door panels Puttin' holes in your flannels Now how you like them apples Everyday, I'm in khakis and a wife beater And everyday, I pour a four in a two liter f** some brew, n***a, I'm a stay a true sipper My b**h trippin' cause my shirt stay full of glitter I'm the last of the litter The f**ing runt And this weed in my blunt, ain't no f**in' pump So what I'm here til I go Collabo with Fat Joe, just to let you rats know This is family on Happy P's jamming beats You hoes ain't ballin', take those twenties off that Camry Repeat Hook (Verse 3) You motherf**ers got no idea what I've been through I'm in the club, packin' my grandmother's jinsu Smokin' tough My j**elry is broken cuffs Loadin' slugs, somebody give Los a hug Don't discuss much if it ain't 'bout paper I built the nine bedroom on a solid acre I'm murderin' f** it, I'll k** her and him Hit the curb And f** off a perfect rim I buy it Cook it And serve it My weed is lime green just like the Kermit Know the churchin' and the world could ever clean my scrill I raid my own Dope House and say, "It's just a drill" I'm on glash, on my a** like a peaco*k While you fake n***as changin' like the weed spot And my team got boriquas and Mexicans We Smif-N-Wessin', and f** that fightin' and wrestlin' Repeat Hook