Fire

[Intro: Fat Joe] Fire, fire, fire, fire Fire, fire, fire, fire Fireeeeeeee Buckwild on this shit right here Ahh! [Break: Big Pun] Terror Squad, what? Terror Squad, what? Terror Squad, what? Terror Squad, what? Terror Squad, what? [Verse 1: Fat Joe] Hey yo, I spit like my mouth was a MAC Hit 'em with that Pun flow, everything sound like *platt* Rapid fire, call the cops Another rapper down, he's been lyrically shot I talk sideways just like you Difference is, the shit that I be spittin' is true We from the hood and we never see you A Bronx Tale Look what the streets made Calogero do Now Joe quit rappin', Hell gon' freeze then Shit, well that's like Lebron leavin'- Some ghost write and get it in lyrically But I'm that nigga you call for credibility If you righteous, I spit it mathematically You not good enough, get your mans to come battle me I spit rounds off I squeeze pounds off You niggas hot, I'ma get the fuck from around y'all Word to mother, y'all niggas is hot, man, get the fuck away from me, man [Chorus: Reef Hustle] Spit, get our rounds off Put pounds on (Fireeeeee) Hear sirens sound off Speak to the streets, can't sound soft Get your rounds off, but you gotta spit (Fireeeeee) Spit your rounds off [Verse 2: Remy Ma] Yeah, yeah, yeah! You see the girl is crazy They say she may be the female Jay-Z I ain't talkin' 'bout 34th street if my jewels is Macy's, they great All day I'm 'bout to go gold and no, I don't mean five hunnid thousand records sold 'Cause when it comes to those, you don't need a U-Haul for what I'm movin' 'Cause soon they gon' call me Miss First Week, one million units I'm like, "Fuck what'chu done 'cause right now Remy is doin' it" I'm on (Fireeeeee) Shit, start callin' me human fuselage I ain't new to this but I can't say I'm a veteran But I could name every rapper, female or male, that I am better than What? Yeah, huh, hah, him too Ain't nobody spittin' this shit like Rem do You see, this is for the listeners and prisoners I'm still on my job so I could give y'all the business My sixteens be so real you could feel 'em in your veins It's Remymello mother fuck Sugar Hill, nigga [Chorus: Reef Hustle] Spit, get our rounds off Put pounds on (Fireeeeee) Hear sirens sound off Speak to the streets, can't sound soft Get your rounds off, but you gotta spit (Fireeeeee) Spit your rounds off [Verse 3: Big Pun] Off the top, what Yo, yo Fuck the small talk, niggas know Pun keep the four cocked Don't walk too fast, might pass through the wrong block Don't stop, keep it movin' The streets'll ruin the average man faster than the mother fuckin' Teamsters Union We doin' dirt 'cause we gotta Five dollar-a-hour, three tears in my motherfuckin' big momma For six hour, got different plans God knows I'm just a man So hide your wrist if it's missin' there Listen, man, we just niggas tryna work it out Listen, friends, strictly business, nothin' person-al We thirsty now and I ain't drinkin' outta plastic tubs Platinum plus, crystal glasses with the fancy cups Fancy us livin' life lavish, drippin' iced cabbage Dippin' in the six with some white bad bitch Tight package, I got a pass I'm from the ghetto, nigga, I like a lotta ass Word life, T-Squad holdin' it down Nah'mean? [Chorus: Reef Hustle] Spit, get our rounds off Put pounds on (Fireeeeee) Hear sirens sound off Speak to the streets, can't sound soft Get your rounds off but you gotta spit (Fireeeeee) Spit your rounds off (Fireeeeee) Spit your rounds off (Fireeeeee) Spit your rounds off (Fireeeeee) Spit your rounds off (Fireeeeee) Spit your rounds off (Fireeeeee)