Murder Rap

[Intro: Fat Joe]

Uh-oh, uh-oh..

Let's get it over with

Yo sound boy turn the levels up

Let's get it over with, UH!

Terror Squad up in this motherfucker

Where my real niggas at?

My Bronx niggas, my [?] niggas

I see you Lil' Hat! Uh, Ahaha!

It's time to take it to these niggas right here

Yeah.. yo.. yo..

[Verse 1: Fat Joe]

Who wanna spaz out? Crunchtime, blow ya abs out

Leave you in the fetal position, witcha ass out

Ready to mash out any crew actin like

They the true facts of life, frontin through the camera lights

Despite, we hold it down regardless

I got Def Jam suckin me like, "I wish you was my artist"

For starters, who's the largest cat?

Get a hundred grand from my most garbage rap

Now how hard is that? Everything we spit be hot

Whether it's live on Flex or in front of the chicken spot

Grimed out, we really live what'chu rhyme 'bout

See me posted up in the Tunnel, with my shines out

Ice cold like Alaska when I pass ya

Got girls shakin, losin they breath, as if they catchin asthma

Headed to the bar to pop some bottles

Now we in the car headed home to rock some models

All I hear in the background is Gucci and Prada

But I'm tryna gas these bitches to screw me for nada

We the best that done it, confess you fronted

Anybody wanna test how much straps, you want it?

[Chorus: Fat Joe]

Aiyyo the gangsta's back

Stop it right where you at

Let a real nigga rock real murderer rap

Tell them thug niggas, listen to that

Gotchu feelin it hard like Joe the God's really bringin it back!

[Verse 2: Fat Joe]

I'm from my days and legends, since age eleven

I was the cause of dope fiends catchin AIDS infections

Most of us are dead, but the rest is locked

Runnin in the rec room and check me out on the box

A CEO could get optioned tryna change the channel

It's like tryna take the flesh outta the mouth of hungry cannibals

Joe the God, the flow is hard

Known for packin two dozen birds like Noah's Ark

I'm the realest of 'em, make you feel the pressure

Catch you at a club, smack you up, steal ya leather

You niggas soften me, beat you out of the mix

Tough talk, tough walk, but you cry like a bitch

I see you downin the Cris', I'm not hatin, I'm just aggrevated

I ask myself every day, how these faggots made it?

Fuck around with the Don and get decapitated

I'm sick of hearin 'em [?] for all the cats that made it

[Chorus: Fat Joe & Armageddon]

Aiyyo the gangsta's back

Stop it right where you at

Let a real nigga rock real murderer rap

Tell them thug niggas, listen to that

Gotchu feelin it hard like Joe the God's really bringin it back!

Aiyyo the kid is back

Leave it right where you at

Let a real nigga hold that, you probably won't clap

Tell them thug niggas, move it on back

I'm feelin tight and I'm hot

Ready to pop the crack right through your back

[Verse 3: Armageddon]

That's how Kenny rocks, I'm more advanced than how your learnin

I'm like the force of space balance and planets while they churnin

Poppin rosary beads, piss on ya candle while it's burnin

Rush ya widows crib and pop ya baby while he's burpin

Now I know you can feel the heat I generate

Imagine when I penetrate ya stomach, and make ya body's center bake

We can argue for days, whether it's faster to drop five shots

In ya astronaut before you cloud the stash box

Splash ya brains on ya birds' laps

Swerve you on the curb, crash the Range, and push the front skirt back

And murk after that, blurtin curse words

Yo I popped that nigga's son one before we catch the first

I'mma kill any murderer, leave a nigga burpin up

Blood, chokin on chunks of his lung interior

Every verse that I spit's a personal riff

I mean a ill key frontin, I'm a murder you shit

Niggas play me while distrubin the Bricks

I'm like the feelin of the first time they ever held a bird in they grip

Motivator thug, scrape 'em, shoot the bolts in his butt

Energizin 'em up, make 'em wanna open 'em up

Actin like I can't happen till I smack him in his Adam's apple

Death to rappin, I don't wanna battle

I'd rather rush your studio session and shatter the booth

Clap at ya face, give the mic feedback the goof

[Chorus: Fat Joe & Armageddon]

Aiyyo the gangsta's back

Stop it right where you at

Let a real nigga rock real murderer rap

Tell them thug niggas, listen to that

Gotchu feelin it hard like Joe the God's really bringin it back!

Aiyyo the kid is back

Leave it right where you at

Let a real nigga hold that, you probably won't clap

Tell them thug niggas, move it on back

I'm feelin tight and I'm hot

Ready to pop the crack right through your back