Fat Joe - Fat Joe's In Town (feat. Doo Wop) Lyrics
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 *****es be like he's all that Mother*****ers 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 ***** 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, *****es 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 mother*****in 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 mother*****ers 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.."} {*"Everybody knows Fat Joe's in town.
