Yeah..
Definition of a Don It s like I gotta keep remindin you and remindin you Who s that nigga..
You heard the kid Fly was on the casket of all those who appose the squadus It s the mother in Don Cartagena ya heard What?! [Chorus: Remy Martin] They wanna know why ya name is Joey Crack You a hustlerhow they think you got the stacks? (Uh) You stuck being in jacks on the blocks witcha paps (Yeah) And the Squad to hard niggaz gotta fall back (Tell em) Damn papiyou re shit is icey now (Uh-huh) In the Bronx witcha Benz rims pokin out (Ten mil) You got the niggaz in the pen straight loc in out But when the don is on nigga close ya mouth [Fat Joe] Yeahyo You wouldn t understand my story of life I live Most niggaz that really know me got life as bids The trife as kidsthis ain t no Scarface shit These niggaz really will kill youyour wifeand kids I walked through many blocks niggaz couldn t stand on Had shit locked before I had a glock to even put my hands on Before I had the dough to put my fams on Before I had rocks sealed in pink topstryna get a gram off A wild adolescentraised by the street Mesmorized by the dealers and the places they eat And when they blazed the heatI was the shorty to take the handoff Run upstairstryna sneak the gat past grandmoms This is how it should be done
my life
Is identical to noneson tryed to duplicate but I knew he was fake Cuz everytime I walked by he turned blue in the face I m like heavy on the leg when I pop All my change is like heavy on the weight when I cop It s just the way it s done Niggaz tell me they respect the way I blaze them guns On hold it down for the Bronx in the name of Pun [Chorus] [Fat Joe] Yeah uhmy name ring bells like a P.O.
Put the pressure on a nigga like I m right atcha do With the muzzle outnigga can t shoke with my dough I m at his mothers house Beat up his popsput the pistol in his brother s mouth Wave brickswhips
jerked a few coke and next play the strip with chrome knowin that they won t forget And on the weekends we shut down clubs You know them crazy Peurto Ricans always in it up! If I can t afford itI ma extort it If I can t cut itI ma bake it Strip you niggaz butt-nakedI m a thoroughbred Carry guns and pump heroin Never went O.T.
I m too light for Maryland I d rather play the streets of New York Where the fiends are guarunteed to keep the meat on my fork I m just a hustler - feds put the tap on our phones in hopes of cuffin us Then wonder why we livin life so illustrious [Chorus repeat 2x] |
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