Альбом Fat Joe

w/ KRS-One

Intro: KRS-One

Music please
Yes, welcome to Jealous One's Envy
We'd like to thank you in advance for purchasing this product
It is a Relativity Records product, artist Fat Joe
My name is KRS-One
And of course we're gonna bring THE noise
Cause we can never be toys

Verse One: KRS-One, Fat Joe

Yes I am the ultimate, uttering ultimatum's for the fun of it
It appears to me you don't know who you fuckin with
You can't see this with bifocals cause you're local
Can't hang with my vocals, better you fuck with Sonny Bono
Or Yoko Ono, but KRS oh NO NO
You might think you a ROTC but I don't give a fuck though
I'm rolling hard like God for the squad black
Packin them poppers bitch, where that money be at?

Aiyyo I be the show stopper, as I shine like gold
Other rappers dull like copper, the certified fake nigga dropper
Which borough, is the thorough
I know, do you know, let me know I'm sayin though
The coke connector, sweating leather with reflectors
Don't get caught up in my sector, or I'ma haveta inject ya
with a slab of this lyrical dope shit
Fake MC's and wannabe's best to quote this
Fat Joe the true and living will prevail
Kingpin like Sonny up in Bronx Tale
Will I fail? I doubt it
I'm the nigga catchin bodies, while other niggaz fantasize about it

True indeed, behind my back MC's claim they can serve me
In my face they screaming "We're not worthy!"
Youse a has been, actually you ain't been
I be touring, while you be home taping
So what punk, you could battle in a second
Frankly the bottom line, is where's your hit record
You claim I'm jocking, claim I'm on your dick, where's your witnesses?
If I'm on your dick my name has got to be syphillis

Chorus:

"If you're feeling lucky duck, then press your luck" - Jeru
"Up up up and away cuz I don't play clown" - Kool G Rap
"If you're feeling lucky duck, then press your luck" - Jeru
"Buck buck buck take that witcha on the way down" - Kool G Rap

Verse Two: Fat Joe

As we proceed to lock it down, don't get it fucked up
We be the kings of the Boogie Down
All we do is spark izm and get cash
Tortuing MC's like that warden up in Alcatraz (bo! bo! bo! bo!)
It's Fat Joe, yo you know my steelo
Get so much love, I'm payin sixteen on a kilo
Sendin niggaz outta town, still got control of the Boogie Down
Now how the fuck you sound? (Yeahhh)
Ain't no army that could harm me or bomb me
c'mon G you clowns ain't got a fucking thing on me
I'm flashy like white linen (tell em)
Your rap is under pressure like two outs tied score in the ninth inning
I'm down with Kris and ain't no stopping me
I'm out for Bronx and Monopoly with chicks on top of me
It's My Philosophy, but for now it's in the corridor
Slappin caps like a ball hittin hard to my laborator
These motherfuckers don't want it
(Word to mother Joe, these niggaz don't want it!)

Chorus

Verse Three: KRS-One

Merrrcy, you wanna serve me but you ain't worthy
My style is too curvy, what you tellin me
But your flimsy ass will go home after the battle and find I'm your boss
With KRS-One up in your memory
I know your kind, you rap write
You're Mr. John Gotti the Don, but you're just another bwotty mon
Telecro bwotty mon, how you collect
Rap magazine dating back to, Tougher than Leather
The only reason you got, such an extensive rap collection
Cuz most of your rap mags are all stuck together
Watch what you sayin, watch what you say
When your skull gets cracked, whatcha gonna say crackhead?
Your file is dead, kneel to the rap God in bed
Fore I slap you way Back in the Dayz like Ahmad
Don't get me fed up, or vexed up, cuz you'll get set up
My crew don't let up, I be dead up in this piece (tell em)
Recognize it's BlastMaster KRS-One

Yeah
This joint right here is goin out to everybody gettin money
I mean the real CREAM
All up and down the East and West coast
Check it *echoes*

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
Hustlin is the key to success
Money is the key to sex
The life is gettin cash, drinkin Mo', gettin blessed
The games people play
The names people slay
It's just another ordinary day

[Verse One]
One's for the cash, two's for every blunt's ash
Three's for all the 40 brews goin to cruise the bowel
Four's for the drugs, sex, and power
I be the top dolla scala, rockin gold collars
While you tryin to sip the juice, I'm takin swallows
Step into my zone and get blown, my ways are internationally known
Yeah, in case you haven't heard the rep
Have an appetite for beef and get, hand fed led
Rapid-fire echoes through your, vicinity
Why you messin with this nigga from Trinity?
For every shell that fell, there's a story to tell
But it's a fine line between grapevines and pines
Knahmean? There's no room for snitches and loud bitches
But it's always room for riches and deep ditches
That's how it be in this everlasting game
Declaring war on cocks, and leavin chumps slain
So maintain, and put the frontin to a rest
Or today'll be the grand openin of your chest
Success, triple beam, knahmean?
Dolla dolla bill

[Chorus]

[Verse Two]
The streets are full of vengeance, and it's expensive
If you don't organize your words right in your sentence
Twelve gauge holes take souls and lives are lost
Who said an arm and a leg was a high cost to toss?
Things are done different, in my zip code
Hollow tips implode, dum-dums explode
Now your crew is screamin like they see demons when I reload
You can't comprehend, act like you want it for clarity
I'm pushin wigs, handin out jigs like charity
You best to get your groove on, or get moved on
Or play the hot steppa, and die with your shoes on
I collects ass and cash
While my crew consumes liquor and hash, and keep the stash
Whether, hustlin or dustin we get busy with ours
T.S., T.A.T., respect for miles
The Bronx is the turf, South is the area
Bring ten, bring twenty, the more guns the merrier
Nobody's bad as me, no cops nabbin me
Front if you dare and I'll change your whole anatomy
For real... uh!

Yo This is going out to all my peeps locked down
Charlie Rock, LD
All my peeps who passed away, yeah

Verse 1:

I remember when we used to chill on a hill
When Forest Projects, used to be Godsville
Brothers was wilin, others was cool
Some hit the island, some smoked fools
Me I chose the life of crime since day one
13 years old, already trying to cop a gun
I never understood why my pops would beat me
No matter what I did, yo he'd still mistreat me
That's why I never listened to a thing he said
And I wasn't just mad when I used to wish him dead
Instead, me and Ma Dukes kept tight
Promised that one day everything would be alright
14 Years old, cutting mad classes
Puffing on a bone, breaking car glasses
Nothing but dreams of cream on my mind
Shook motherfuckers on the block droppin dime
Everybody knew Joey Crack represented
And if I told then I'd take your life
Hey Yo, I meant it
That's the way it goes
When you deal with the real fake jacks
And get your cap peeled

CHORUS:

Hey Joey, let's just get this money
Brothas just be wilin
Hey Joey, you can't trust nobody
Brothas they been triflin

Verse 2:

Yeah Momma never said life would be so hard
sometimes i find myself alone just praying to god
Hoping that today won't be the last
I mean, Just the other day this kid I knew got blasted
(Say Word) Word, it wasn't over no cash.
It was over some broad who liked to auction off the ass
He was a cool kid, although we lost him big
If he was a real nigga, then he wouldn't have got did
Life's trife, and then you die
Nobody dies of old age, but in the hands of another guy
That's why I keeps an alibi
Juliani wants to see a brother fry
So I maintain to keep my mind peace focused
Keep the gat there in case a nigga wanna smoke this
Times are difficult on the streets of New York
It's kinda hard trying to hope for and not get caught
Blue eyes is on my back with intentions of arresting me
But they won't get the best of me
Cause riches are my destiny

CHORUS

Verse 3:

No one expected me to blow like this
What was once hand me downs
Is now the best of ??atanovich??
Yukon Jeeps creepin through the streets
Catching the eye of every big booty cheek freak
Daten rims so shiny you can see your reflection
Green plush interior, under the seat
The heat for protection
Momma look at me now
Got a house in Long Isle for my spouse and my child
D.E.L. condos for first impression hoes
No more holes in my gibros
Strictly denim and clothes
Airwaves blasting my latest single
All up in the Mecca Club
Making Lucci while I mingle
Jingle jewels in the face of past enemies
Eat your heart out son, you never was a friend to me

CHORUS

Big Joe, South Bronx

[Нет текста]

{*DJ cuts "Guess who's back?"*}

[Fat Joe]
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 wanna 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.."}

How many emcees must get dissed?
How many motherfuckin mics I got to rip? Til you
are considerate, illegitimate, rap motherfuckers
stop talkin your shit!! Yeah
Fat Joe, Jealous One's Envy
Steppin to the jam niggaz actin all friendly
Smilin in my face, and all the whiles they wanna
take my fuckin place, them backstabbers, them backstabbers
I got some shit for your whole damn crew
How the fuck you gon' face a Mac-11 with a twenty-two?
And then deliver, I'll shake your shiver
and shatter your bones, the modern day Al Capone
Step into my zone and get blown
He who claims to wear the crown'll get the throne, check it
There's many emcees in this world of rap
But not too many emcees can fuck with Joey Crack
In fact, yo, I be the realest you know
With the illest of flows, bustin caps at po-po's

Chorus:

"You gotta flow Joe!" All these niggaz know the time
when I come through I shine with these genuine rhymes
"Let em know Joe!" What you mean they don't know?
I'm representin right now like I represented befo'
"You gotta flow Joe!" All these niggaz know the time
when I come through I shine with these genuine rhymes
"Let em know Joe!" What you mean they don't know?
What you mean they don't know? What you mean they don't know?

Many thought it couldn't happen, Joe was never rappin
He was always gettin loot off the crack and
fuckin with them heavyweights, who had shit sewn in every state
The very sight'll make the average man defecate
Livin the life of stock, bonds and cars, word bond
When I be gone I'll be worshipped like ?Nicky Barnes?
It's on, you don't want no confrontation
Killer communication, I suffer from multiple lacerations
Take a look at Joey Gambino
Spilled your chips in the casinos while feastin on shrimp scallapino
Niggaz don't want it, word to mother
I be that catchin body ese that'll leave that ass six feet under
Rappers wonder, where I been since _The Real_
I been plannin my strategy for the next kill
Ninety-five for the real live
Only the strong survive, that's why I pack a four-five
We got, all these actors playin characters and killers
Wannabe hammer cockers, but, shit is realer than they think
Fuck around and get them clothes ?rentin?
Many believe Fat Joe will be the cause of armaggedeon

Chorus 2X

[Нет текста]

Yeah
This is goin' out ... to all the live motherfuckers, knowhatumsayin'
All the real niggaz, Bronx, Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, California
La Perla, Puerto Rico, whatever the fuck you're from, youknowhatumsayin'
Yeah

Verse One:

This story takes place, back in the South Bronx
Where at the age of fourteen I was ready to knockin' off punks (yeah!)
And suckers were scared to death
Every time I walked by I hit them niggaz take their last breath (ahhh..)
See, I just didn't give a fuck
And if you had a seed skin, I let the bomba you was getting stuck (word!)
That was the way it was
One day I went to visit my aunt, and stuck up my cous
See, something was fucked up back then
No matter what the fuck I did, I never had no ends
And my moms was on walfare
Aiyyo I knew I had a father, but the nigga was never there
So what the fuck was I had to do
When sick and tired to bein' the bummiest nigga out the crew
I gotta get mine, I gotta get cash!
I see an old man, I'm gonna rob him with the quick-fast
Gimme your motherfucking loot, popi
I'm goin' to get paid and can't a damn thing stop me
See, I'm tired of this porshit
And who the cops? Well they can suck my motherfuckin' dick!
Cause all them niggaz ever do is harass
That's why I came glad when I heard somebody swooped that ass (*gunshot*)
Just to let ya know how I feel, word'em up
The fuckin' shit is real

Chorus: (*background cuts "Down on the real"*)

Aiyyo its real
Aiyyo the shit is real
The fuckin shit is real
Aiyyo its real

Verse Two:

Now I'm sixteen and there's a brand new scene
I'm makin' mad dupe, gettin' paid off the dope fiends (word)
*?Deep in shit?* the checkin order,
and my main man Tone was fuckin everybody else's daughter
See everybody knew in town that Joe and Tone had shit locked down
And a nigga wouldn't test me
It seems like every other day the fucking cops arrest me (yea!)
But the shit would never stick
I make one phone call and he'll be out by quick
Cause uncle Tan had my back
And now niggaz gettin' jealous cause they know I'm livin' fat
Talkin shit around the way and over block
But never in my face cause they knew I'd clap the glock
And my crew is mad deep
I'm punchin crazy puerto rican, so why yo don't sleep (word!)
And all you bitch ass niggaz know the deal, check it out
The fucking shit is real

Chorus

Verse Three:

Let me let ya know why I made this song (why!?)
Brothers can't deal with the real, word is bond
I'm sick and tired of these fake ass niggaz
Sayin' that they're catchin' bodies when they never pulled a trigga
I know ya style, I've seen it before
You wearin' army suit, now you think you're hardcore
Drinkin on your 40's, smokin on your blunts
Then afford a chainsaw, yo there ho fronts ,yeah
You fakin' the funk, kid
And you'd be *?kidnapped?* the ass if you ever did a fucking bid
It's time to separate the real from the phony
The name is Fat Joe, punk, act like you know me
I come from crypt with that ruff shit
Nowadays I can't believe the *?bull/boo?* rappers come up with
And all y'all bitch ass niggaz know the deal, check it out
The fuckin shit is real

Chorus

Outro:

Word up!
I wanna say peace to my peeps, the Beatnuts
Messengers Of Funk, strictly Roots
My man Four Flex, Zulu Nation
Jazzy J in the house
Diamond D, the whole Diggin' In The Crates crew
And rest in peace to my man Tony Montana
Aiyo, I'm out, word is bond
The shit is real

[Нет текста]

f/ Raekwon the Chef

[Raekwon]
Yo whassup kid? How you, yeah
Straight up and down
This is the Chef comin out of Wu-Tang Clan
Representin Shaolin, to the fullest son!
I mean I'm here right now with my nigga, Fat Ji-doe
representin the Boogie Down, and the rest of the tri-borough
So what we gonna do right here son
Aiyyo matter fact son, I'm tired of these niggaz man!
Word up!

[Fat Joe]
Hey yo it's total devestation, for any MC that poses
I paint the town red with clips and dum-dums and bloodshed
The Fat MC, from the B-X
Vicious like a T-Rex, who slips into a three-X
Rappers fuck up, and end up, in the obituary
Don't know the meaning of real, check the dictionary
I got no time for conversation
Makin MC's run for the border like the immigration
A Puerto Rican villain who be dealin and illin for nothin
You ain't a playa, you just BLUFFIN
Point blank, we can even do this with gats and shanks
It's your selection
I can become President, without elections
I got mad connections, Fat Joe, the rap wizard
Brainstorms come in swarms, get lost in the blizzard
Word to mother I take your life
Sodomize your daughter, and make a widow out your wife
It's the relentless, nobody can check this
Fat Joe, you know The Yung and Resless respect this
.. to all the fake MC's

[Raekwon the Chef]
Ch-chk-BLAOW! Move from the gate now
Nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
Ch-chk-BLAOW! Move from the gate now
Nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
Ch-chk-BLAOW! Move from the gate now
Nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
Ch-chk-BLAOW! Move from the gate now
Nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
Ch-chk-BLAOW! Move from the gate now

[Fat Joe]
Yo who gets wrecked on the spot? You get wrecked on the spot
I got this whole rap shit locked
Many MC's perpetrated, and gladiated
I'm number one so yo they hate it
Listen here suckers, you don't wanna meet the chuckers
It's the same motherfucker who said fuck the ruckus
Back in ninety-three, when everything was fine and dandy
I was the nigga puttin razors in your kids candy
Mad connivin, it don't get any worser
Best reverse them thoughts DISPERSE
Even if you get loud and curse
you don't put any fear in my heart
Don't even start, you get torn apart
Fat Joe, livin the life
Yo I get trife, and do a number on that ass
with the butcher knife - slice after slice, yea
Causin more destructional horror, than the AntiChrist
Niggaz know the motherfuckin time
Joe represents B-Lawn, respect mine

[Raekwon the Chef]
Nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
Ch-chk-BLAOW! Move from the gate now
Nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
Ch-chk-BLAOW! Move from the gate now
Nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9
Ch-chk-BLAOW! Move from the gate now
Nigga respect mine, or anger the tec-9

f/ Armaggedon, Big Punisher, Keith Nut

[Fat Joe]
Yeah!!
Straight out the heroin infested streets of the Bronx
Home of corrupt cops
Where niggaz get they motherfuckin wigs pushed back
even if they don't fake jax
Fat Joe, bringin forth the illest motherfuckers
in this whole rap game
Hey yo Armageddon, let these motherfuckers know

[Armageddon]
You look, I look, you invite it, I took
I forever wearin it, you know stone cold crook
What's truth, what's lie? Who's people, who spy?
It's life and death, choose live or die
Ultimates who made em why do we even exist?
When we die is there heaven or is it total blackness?
For any touch there's a feeling
Touch and y'all felt
We can exchange shots, until our chambers melt
There's mad tension in the air (mad tension in the air)
over one man's stare, you wanna dare, yo Crack
Eject the Czech from the glove compartment
Lay out the lead spray, and flame him up like arson
It's dangerous business
Opposites, these strangers be bendin opposites
So put your face in mine, best brace your spine
Cause opposites may attract, but they don't combine
My impact so fat, you feel your vertabrates grind
Now delayed second thoughts run through your mind
When my slugs connect, and strike your major arteries
When my fists connect, they causin major injuries
What you know Junior? You not evil

[Fat Joe]
Uhh, the South Bronx is the wrong place to visit
I don't know an MC who has enough balls to diss it
Whether rain or shine, we be bustin out nines
Hey yo Punisher, hit em with that ill type rhyme

[Big Punisher]
Yo, I cause a bloody bath to make my buddies laugh and gig'
My nutty wrath'll live as long as I'm a nasty kid
I blast a pig and slit his throat just for ? L
My skills {undecipherable} puffin boom in Hell
I doom the world like I was God and throw my gun away
Then snatch the moon out the sky, and blow the sun away
Me and my brothers play hardball
Strictly hardcore, lyrics til I'm finished breakin God's laws
My job's raw but I gotta do it - I'm feelin high then buddhaed
so you might get shot and lose a lot of fluid
The spot I blew it at an early age, ever since the curly braids
I would earn a wage with the thirty gauge
There's dirty ways to get paid if you got the balls
Just load the glock and cause the hardest cop to drop his drawers
Don't stop or pause, let the shotty go up his butt
to finish up, punchin body blows and uppercuts

[Fat Joe]
The South Bronx is the wrong place to visit
I don't know an MC who has enough balls to diss it
Whether rain or shine, we be bustin out nines
Hey yo Keith Nut, hit em with that ill type rhyme

[Keith Nut]
Yo, I cause damage, rap's redhanded bandit
Well I'll be god damnit, I kick ass like I'm yo' parents
Prepare for the slaughter when my brain is out of order
Got kicked out my church cause I got caught fuckin my preacher's daughter
Menace like Dennis on the M.I.C.
You best run son, I'm sendin emcees up shit's creek
So don't sleep, cause I creep, on New York streets
like I'm a big fat dick, wack emcees is ass-cheeks
Yo, I'm that nigga that'll kidnap yo' kids
Take em home, fuck em good, then send em back to you in bandages
You lose, cause I got, the ill street, and still keep
the toast close, and rep-a, resent-a, the East coast
So watch your back black, Bronx niggaz don't play
If you ever fake jax, I'll slit yo' throat like O.J.

[Fat Joe]
Yeah, that's my motherfuckin crew
Straight out the South Bronx
The livest motherfuckin corners of the Bronx
Keepin in realer, my motherfuckin nigga Keith Nut
Armageddon the Reddin
My nigga Big Dog Punisher
Straight out the Full Eclipse Camp
All you motherfuckers know the times, yeah
Watch your motherfuckin back
Blow out the back of your domepiece

[Fat Joe]
Yeah, don't get it fucked up
This shit is realer than you think
Goin out to all them niggaz gettin cream
Drivin them beemers, them NSX's, them Lexus
All up in the clubs, buyin out the bars and shit
Uhh, money man in the house
Yeah, uhh..

Sparks are flashin from oowops blastin
A face gets bashed in for street crews clashin
Forever be forever great
It's the same shit tomorrow, eulogies of sorrow
Nonstop dramas, chumps think they hard smokin ?
It's all for steel my son, light as a tongue
The connections I got, I can lamp while you get done
Remember that, I dismember cats that act
A plain and simple fact is I react on impact
I'm plenty versatile, wild
Have you screamin like your head short a few vials
No more slabs and dollar cabs
Strictly Lexus Coupes with my troops feel the Alpine blast
Extra dark tints, for sticky events
Suspense makes the lead dispense
A baby oil massage when I'm feelin intense
Fly mami's with ki's taped to their bo-ties
Transportin through a airport securities
In cahoots with the San Juan authorities
Hated by majorities, loved by minorities
Uhh, the top dog, ??
Hazardous to your health like smog

Chorus: Fat Joe (repeat 2X)

(Say word) Word! Fuck what you heard
Shit is realer than you think, you niggaz must be slow
(Say word) Word! You best to act like you know
It's that real nigga shit from Fat Joe

[Fat Joe]
Business chatter's over shrimp and lobster platters
at Jimmy's Cafe, a glass of Peirier
Chick go for celly book a room at the Holiday
Inn, so I can get her and a friend
Menage a trois livin the life of a star
Overweight overpaid, pockets bustin out the seams
While you suckers havin limousine dreams
I got you all sized up, niggaz wise up
A Fat Beat truck'll be pickin all you guys up
Word to mother, shit is realer than you think
Hit my lady with diamond rings, gold links and minks
A nickel-plated trey-deuce, pearl handle is pink
So there's no muggin, all you niggaz must be buggin
The mac in the trunk's what I'm luggin
(Say word) GEYEAH, save it for the hook
Terror Squad's everywhere you look
Niggaz is vexed from all the hoes I took
From Trinity Ave all the ways down the Brook

Chorus 1.5X

[Fat Joe]
Yeah, goin out to my nigga Big Frank
1-7-0 Joe
Notorious One, yeah
Uncle Dan got my back
Charlie Rock L.D., up in Auburn, doin your time
Swear to God when you come home you'll be on nigga

Yeah
This joint right here is goin out to everybody gettin money
I mean the real CREAM
All up and down the East and West coast
Check it *echoes*

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
Hustlin is the key to success
Money is the key to sex
The life is gettin cash, drinkin Mo', gettin blessed
The games people play
The names people slay
It's just another ordinary day

[Verse One]
One's for the cash, two's for every blunt's ash
Three's for all the 40 brews goin to cruise the bowel
Four's for the drugs, sex, and power
I be the top dolla scala, rockin gold collars
While you tryin to sip the juice, I'm takin swallows
Step into my zone and get blown, my ways are internationally known
Yeah, in case you haven't heard the rep
Have an appetite for beef and get, hand fed led
Rapid-fire echoes through your, vicinity
Why you messin with this nigga from Trinity?
For every shell that fell, there's a story to tell
But it's a fine line between grapevines and pines
Knahmean? There's no room for snitches and loud bitches
But it's always room for riches and deep ditches
That's how it be in this everlasting game
Declaring war on cocks, and leavin chumps slain
So maintain, and put the frontin to a rest
Or today'll be the grand openin of your chest
Success, triple beam, knahmean?
Dolla dolla bill

[Chorus]

[Verse Two]
The streets are full of vengeance, and it's expensive
If you don't organize your words right in your sentence
Twelve gauge holes take souls and lives are lost
Who said an arm and a leg was a high cost to toss?
Things are done different, in my zip code
Hollow tips implode, dum-dums explode
Now your crew is screamin like they see demons when I reload
You can't comprehend, act like you want it for clarity
I'm pushin wigs, handin out jigs like charity
You best to get your groove on, or get moved on
Or play the hot steppa, and die with your shoes on
I collects ass and cash
While my crew consumes liquor and hash, and keep the stash
Whether, hustlin or dustin we get busy with ours
T.S., T.A.T., respect for miles
The Bronx is the turf, South is the area
Bring ten, bring twenty, the more guns the merrier
Nobody's bad as me, no cops nabbin me
Front if you dare and I'll change your whole anatomy
For real... uh!

[Fat Joe]
Whattup JuJu?
Uhh, whattup Beatnuts?
All them Dominicans in Corona
Bobbito Stretch, my nigga Funk Flex
This is the dedication
Yeah, Punisher Big Dog in the house
Full Eclipse crew
Rated R, my nigga Domingo
East New York representin, check it

Before I start, you know I got ta
pay homage and respect to Afrika Bambaata
Zulu Nation, for twenty years of work
Fat Joe wouldn't be on if it wasn't for Red Alert
Chris Lighty, I hope the rain never ends
Violator Records, now featuring The Twinz
Diamond D, for believing in me
Showbiz & A.G., the whole D.I.T.C.
My nigga G. Rap, forever got your back
whether it's with the macs or on a Primo track
Aiyyo Guru, you know I love you to death
Peace to Redman, Apache, Vinnie and Treach
Nevertheless, on the other side of town
there's my brother Lord Finesse gettin down for his crown
DJ Sirs, killin shit, word to God
Peace to Funkmaster Flex and the whole Flip Squad
Nice and Smooth, hey yo you know the situation
In case you haven't heard this jam is called the dedication

Yo it's the dedication
to all my niggaz one love
From the heart dedication
The dedication
to all my niggaz one love..

Hey yo fuck all the rest, I'm givin love to Wu-Tang
My nigga Chef and Big Meth, keep doin your thang
Tony Starks, Ason, and the rest of the crew
All my niggaz from Shaolin, you know how we do
James Todd Smith, for inspirin me
And all the funny-ass promoters who be hirin me
Knowledge Reigns Supreme, yo you know you're the best
Make sure you get that message that I left with West
Anyhows, on the other side of things
Big Nas, L.E.S., and Mobb Deep from Queens
Puff Daddy, get the millions kid
Nuff props and respect to Notorious B.I.G.
DJ Clue, you know I can't forget you
Doo Wop, S&S, oh yeah and Ron G too
Craig G, forever tryin to live like me
And of course the one and only DJ Kid Capri

Yo it's the dedication
to all my niggaz one love
From the heart dedication
The dedication
to all my niggaz one love
From the heart dedication
The dedication
to all my niggaz one love
From the heart dedication
The dedication
to all my niggaz one love..

Yeah, this joint right here, is dedicated
to all the real niggaz in hip-hop, uhh
What up Puba?
Whattup my nigga Kool Micski?
I ain't forget ya, L.A. love
Sadat X, Das EFX
Everybody else, representin the real in hip-hop
Word to mother
Little Heck, the whole TS crew
Big Power, Gizmo

"Bronx keeps creating it.." -> KRS-One {cut and scratched}
[Fat Joe] The bigger nigga from the Bronx, Fat Joe!
"Bronx keeps creating it.." -> KRS-One {cut and scratched}
[Fat Joe] The bigger nigga from the Bronx, Fat Joe!

[Fat Joe]
Aiyyo I said yes yes y'all-n, to the beat all-n
Always been no peace so I never like to ball in
But I maintain and keep a grip on the mic
And say a punchline that'll get the crowd hyped, RIGHT
I never could determine who's the best
It was either KRS or that nigga Lord Finesse
But now I maintain that's with my own career
Joe gettin gold dough or somethin wrong in here
Cause everybody knows I got the skills to pay the bills
Plus I got the flow cause you know +The *Hit is Real+
What? Top notch, I give you nuttin but the raw talent
But don't fake jax and make me have to get violent
You wouldn't like it when I flip the script
Cause when I flip the script, my glock can have an empty clip
Yeah, straight from the Ave of Trinity
I hate it when a juvenile tries to prove his masculinity
I got the whole vicinity locked down
Police hate it, look what they done to Tupac now
You make me wanna blast or somethin
But for now I keep infiltratin these crews that be frontin
And all these other MC's be hatin it
Because the Bronx keeps creatin it, rock on

"Bronx keeps creating it.." -> KRS-One {cut and scratched}
[Fat Joe] The bigger nigga from the Bronx, Fat Joe!
"Bronx keeps creating it.." -> KRS-One {cut and scratched}
[Fat Joe] The bigger nigga from the Bronx, Fat Joe!

[Fat Joe]
Aiyyo I'm comin on de dance with de spliff of sensei
The name is Fat Joe and the crew is BDP
Ninety-three, was the year that I debuted it
Representin, for all my niggaz gettin booted
Now who is the number one +Boricua on the Set+?
When in San Fran' I go check Sway and Tech
Otherwise I live the real live back in the BX
Known for transformin on rappers like I'm Jesus
You didn't know I order hits and what not?
Don't make me have to let the dogs loose
and hear the two-per shot, BOO-YA
Ain't it funny how nobody really cares
One minute you're here, the next minute you're under there
Word to Christ, I put out your lights
Every stripe's precise, K.O.'s in all fights
Fatal like Joe with this murderous flow
The Bronx keeps creatin it, you know how that go, peace

"Bronx keeps creating it.." -> KRS-One {cut and scratched}
[Fat Joe] The bigger nigga from the Bronx, Fat Joe, yeah!