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Fat Joe |
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Don Cartagena |
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Dat Gangsta Shit |
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Yeah, uhh, dat gangsta shit |
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Uhh, yeah, dat gangsta shit |
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Uhh, dat gangsta shit |
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What you love huh? Dat gangsta shit |
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What you want huh? Dat gangsta shit |
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Now what we live huh? Dat gangsta shit |
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Yeah, uhh, uhh |
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Recognize my presence, this rap game specialized with legends |
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I drop shit niggaz try to memorize in seconds |
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You criticize me, still visualize the lessons |
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and when I wish to put aside the questions |
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before they find out, who's the realest |
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Who done spoke without one joke about the illest |
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shit that ever happened, in this rappin beyond rappin |
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Joe the God it ain't so hard to start clappin |
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but I lay low, create flows, for the pesos |
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Now we got extra hoes, wantin to chase shows |
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I take foes, and break em down to minerals |
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We went from street corner thugs to white collar criminals |
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Individuals, with no peace on the quest |
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The iced out, piece on my chest, from the East to the West |
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Never sleep in a sweat, keep the heat with the vest |
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Ready for the 'casian blazin gettin deep with the best |
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The police wanna test my strategy, got half of the world |
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mad at me, but very few challenge me |
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Perhaps you will be the first to approach this, lyrical dope shit |
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Cartagena will bring the chrome like explosives |
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Now what you love huh? Dat gangsta shit |
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What you want huh? Dat gangsta shit |
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Now what we live huh? Dat gangsta shit |
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Dat gangsta shit, dat gangsta shit |
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Yeah, uhh, uhh |
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Fuck the whole world, all I need is my dough and my girl |
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And even she can get it, everybody go to hell |
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I don't need y'all, disrespect the Don and I'ma see y'all |
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Hit you with the tech and the armor, you see-saw |
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That's my steez, if I don't kill you I'ma clap you these |
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Ask your peeps if I ain't have the beast soundin Japanese |
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Coughin blood, that's what you get for talkin thug |
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Run up on your preacher with the sweeper feature coughin slugs |
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Once a thug always a thug, hallways and drug dealers |
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Fillers, killers, they wanna chill all day with us |
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They love the Don, these words are more than just another song |
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If I said I slit your neck, your jugular's gone |
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Ain't nothin artificial, Joe the God, the Terror Squad official |
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Got a lot of pistols with missiles, prayer lies with you |
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The shit you say'll get you sprayed with the clapper |
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Just remember Joe the God is not your ordinary rapper |
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Now what we love huh? Dat gangsta shit |
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What you want huh? Dat gangsta shit |
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Now what we live huh? Dat gangsta shit |
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Dat gangsta shit, dat gangsta shit |
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Now what you love huh? Dat gangsta shit |
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What you want huh? Kick dat gangsta shit |
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What you live huh? Dat gangsta shit |
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Dat gangsta shit, dat gangsta shit |
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Yeah |
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Goin out to all the real niggaz |
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All the niggaz that support real hip-hop |
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All my niggaz on the corners |
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DJ's, no matter where the fuck you from |
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it's where's your gat, hahaha |
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Primo whattup nigga? Yeah |
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Don Cartagena |
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Terror Squadian, rock the party and, what? |
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Beotch!! |
