Lyrics Murder Rap - 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
niggaz
at?
My
Bronx
niggaz,
my
fast
niggaz
I
see
you
Lil'
Hat!
Uh,
Ah
aha!
It's
time
to
take
it
to
these
niggaz
right
here
Yeah,
yo,
yo
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
you
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
tryin'
to
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?
Aiyyo
the
gangsta's
back
Stop
it
right
where
you
at
Let
a
real
nigga
rock
real
murderer
rap
Tell
them
thug
niggaz,
listen
to
that
Gotchu
feelin'
it
hard
like
Joe
the
God's
really
bringin'
it
back
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
tryin'
to
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
niggaz
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
souls
for
all
the
cats
that
made
it
Aiyyo
the
gangsta's
back
Stop
it
right
where
you
at
Let
a
real
nigga
rock
real
murderer
rap
Tell
them
thug
niggaz,
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
niggaz,
move
it
on
back
I'm
feelin'
tight
and
I'm
hot
Ready
to
pop
the
crack
right
through
your
back
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,
bodies
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'ma
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
meet
a
ill
key
frontin',
I'm
a
murder
you
shit
Niggaz
play
me
while
disturbin'
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
Aiyyo
the
gangsta's
back
Stop
it
right
where
you
at
Let
a
real
nigga
rock
real
murderer
rap
Tell
them
thug
niggaz,
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
niggaz,
move
it
on
back
I'm
feelin'
tight
and
I'm
hot
Ready
to
pop
the
crack
right
through
your
back
1 Intro
2 J.O.S.E.
3 King of N.Y.
4 Opposites Attract (What They Like)
5 Definition of a Don
6 My Lifestyle
7 We Thuggin'
8 Fight Club
9 What's Luv?
10 He's Not Real - Intro
11 He's Not Real
12 The Fuck Up (Interlude)
13 Get the Hell on with That
14 It's O.K.
15 Murder Rap
16 The Wild Life
17 Still Real
18 We Thuggin' (Remix)
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