Fat Joe: Baby u could keep a secret Calca Cribs Mania Hey, hey Fresh off the runway Pair white nikes Phantom top drop on that I nine five Pink see s**ers who but I on my way to party a corut NY Now I ain't gotta tell you That them boys pop bottles And mami's lookin like america's top model She says your earing look at That thing that's even bigger Than the rock on my ring Now she gotta man who plays for the hawks I'm like cum on ma you know me run New York Jays in the background put u to bed Says she got brains so I'm looking ahead And I'm looking for bread I gotta eat on these streets shyt 17.5 bout to holla at Jeezy I'm a real n***a Real n***as do real things And I can keep a secret Is the song that I sing Yaddamean Chorus: (J.Holiday) Baby I won't tell If you don't want me to Cause I gotta thing for you L do anything for ya (Girl anything for you) Baby I won't tell I never do bad to you Cause Baby you got it And you got me I gotta thing for ya [Fat Joe:] A material girl In a material world Venus, Serina Ma cereal girls What you know about having dinner on a jet Make it back before The DJ's finished with his set Now they call me the birdman When them doors ajar Ghost ride the whip like I'm from Oakland ya'll It's the crack man And he ain't got a shot the don The wrist is jacob earing chopard Went to chows for chows out Know it's da same thing Bills so high They throwing the champagne I'm a real n***a real n***as do real things And I can keep a secret Is the song that I sing Yaddamean [Chorus] Millionare frames perrier rocks Every day a different chain n***a get ya gear up Name another fat guy that fly Like me to get ya right laid pipe All night like me Call u fruity pebbles Cause you got so many spy bags purple ones Yellow ones, sky blue the white bag Hermes shyt wherver you lay your eyes at Red card black card I could buy that Louis Vuitton I'm truly the don Christian, Louis Vuitton the bluest charm I'm a real n***a real n***as do real things And I can keep a secret Is the song that I sing Yaddamean