Fat Joe - Terror Era lyrics

[Intro - guy talking] Aiyyo Joe man whats good man Aiyyo I hear n***as poppin sh** They runnin off to the Jakes man They talkin like you ain't hood n***a What's really gangsta n***a What up what's poppin man Aiyyo f** these n***as man Let these n***as do 88 [Fat Joe] (yeah uh what uh yo yo) Migga tryin to change the Ragine, I won't have that Step in the club in Manhat at And it feel like sat down, Jose the flow is c**aine n***as even got the nerve tryin to clone the name It's the kid wit a thousand aliases, the hood knows sh** nowadays got n***as callin me cooked coke I rise to the to the top and I lay it down quite flat You can battle me up and get your money right back Crack n***as clap n***as wit the fo' kid The newspaper sh** Known for crackin n***as jaws And I don't go to court, I talk wit the hawk Have a forensics specialist outline your corks About time we fought man I'm tired of this rumor sh**, ya whole life's a lie Let you slide but you ruin it, we the guys doin it You only pretend Shoot the place to merk off in my loyalty rims n***a what [Guy talking] Yeah yeah thats whats up my n***a I see these n***as ain't f**in wit you though But what's up wit these n***as though man These n***as is ridin around in f**in benzes and sh** Bentleys & all that sittin on yachts Yea man show these n***as what your 1's like man What's up [Fat Joe] I gets duece 5 a show, do 5 a week Let y'all do the math, that's aight for me sh** never claim to be the richest but the truth is Livest n***a you've ever seen in show biz And you know this, notice the dime is poppin Hold the masterpiece watch the Don be coppin I'm like Gunny from Dead Pres' Put the gun in your mouth and tell you how lucky you are to break bread I'm tired of sonnin n***as that don't believe us I'm at ya life savers alone wit my sneakers I went from humble beginners to ownin the Jimmy's f**in wit women that only want me for winnin Only for homey sittin, scuse me but don't be sh**tin I'm only bonin the b**h is if y'all could be gettin n***a what!! [Guy talking] Yeah that's what's up Crack But what's up wit that b**h when she gonna drop yo What's up wit Remy man Where that b**h at man Yeah man Everytime I look around man I don't see no Remy man n***as in the hood want you to call this b**h out man What's up man [Remy Martin] Yo I don't give a f** I don't play that sh** And I feel to bust a cap on a n***a I run up wit a gat on a n***a co*k back on a n***a Like Rem's that b**h and Crack's that n***a For every word I spit I get a** cat figures So f** a** clappin, I'll clap yo a** n***a And chick is so funny cause I gets gully Rocks throwbacks and fitteds n***a, hoodies and skullies Am I fist is a pack on my wrist is a Jacob And I gotta a "mac" and I don't mean make up Sellin pies on da block like, I sell aranathum Do you want it raw? Or do want me to bake em? Get the bag it cut it shop it f** it it's mothin Got the product the power and the will to do the hustle sh** it's sicker than vomit, I swear to God it's disgustin Hot an' fresh out the kitchen so these b**hes can't touch it You gotta love it I'm buggin word to my cousin Tequila Slap the sh** outta any b**h interferin wit my scrilla See a n***a he can get it too, f** what your dick a do Even if I stuttered I will still "shi shi sh** on you" My n***a L.V