fat joe
fat joe's in town
Yeah The Fat Gangsta  Here comes the nigga from the East  Who just been crowned for most hated by police  The public enemy  rapper at large  Who's known throughout the industry for pullin' niggaz cards  You know the situation  Zulu Nation  Never forget the Bronx because the Bronx the foundation  Fat Joe  a.k.a. Joey Crack  Niggaz be like he's fat  bitches be like he's all that  Motherfuckers know my rep, I never fronted  Niggaz be talkin' mad shit, but they don't want it  It's the realer MC, the drug dealer MC  If a nigga fake jax, I'm gonna kill a MC  Yeah, you can't handle the truth  Fuck around and get thrown off the project roof  Mad lives have been lost and forgotten  Niggaz better watch they back, the Big Apple's gone rotten   Microphone check, one two one two  Shouts to the East and the West coast crew  Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true  {"That's all I ask of you"}   When I step in the jam all eyes are on me  Sold out crowds, with curiosity  Everybody wants to know, could the man still flip it?  Microphone gifted, unrealistic  Comin' with the bomb bass for the underground heads  Flex got the most, Serge got the landspread  Keepin' shit real, niggaz know the deal  Just through trial and comin' down on appeal  Microphone Joe I own it, bitches want to bone it  Blowin' out the tweeters in your musical component  It's your man Fat Joe, oh, is that so?  You remember me from, "You know ya got to Flow"  One time for your mind off the top of a dome  Never leave for home without the motherfuckin' chrome  Word to Tone, Big Daddy, I know he's chillin'  Peace to all the villains out of state makin' millions cause ah   Microphone check, one two one two  Shouts to the East and the West coast crew  Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true  {"That's all I ask of you"}  Microphone check, one two one two  Shouts to the East and the West coast crew  Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true  {"That's all I ask of you"}   From the Bronx to Queensbridge, on back to Redhook  Never lost a gram on any eighth that I cooked  Fat Joe, army fatigue and black chuckers  Hardcore lyrics to all my real motherfuckers  I'm tryin to see cream, in the millions, retire  And go play golf with Russell Simmons  That's the type of mission that I'm on  Aiyyo my word is bond, I keep a army just as deep as Farrakhan  You can't deal with the man  Who be holdin' down the fort with the gauge in his hand  I know you love the way I grab the mic and spark it  You hookers'll never get your hands inside my pockets   Microphone check, one two one two  Shouts to the East and the West coast crew  Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true  {"That's all I ask of you"}  Microphone check, one two one two  Shouts to the East and the West coast crew  Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true  {"That's all I ask of you"}