Fat Joe, Big Pun, Big Pun featuring Fat Joe - Twinz (Deep Cover 98) (Explicit Version)
Song lyrics
[Big Pun:]
Ready for war, Joe, how you wanna blow they spot?
I know these dirty cops that'll get us in if we murder some wop,
Hop in your Hummer, the Punisher's ready, meet me at Vito's
With Noodles, we'll do this dude while he's slurpin' spaghetti.
Everybody kiss the fuckin' floor! Joey Crack, buck ‘em all,
If they move, Noodles, shoot that fuckin' whore!
Dead in the middle of Little Italy, Little, did we know
That we riddled some middlemen who didn't do diddily?
[Fat Joe:]
It'll be a cold day in hell the day I'm taken out,
Make no mistake, for real, I wouldn't hesitate to kill,
I'm still the Fat one that you love to hate, catch you at your mother's wake,
Smack you then I wack you with my snub trey-eight.
[Big Pun:]
I rub your face off the Earth and curse your family children
Like Amityville, and drill the nerves in your cavity filling,
Insanity's buildin' up pavilion in my civilian,
The cannon be the anarchy that humanity's dealin'.
A villain without remorse, who's willin' to out your boss
Forever, and take all the cheddar like child support.
[Fat Joe:]
I support Pun in anything he does, anything he loves,
A brother from another mother sent from the above,
A thug nigga just like me, one of the best – might be,
Even better leavin' niggas kneelin' on they right knee.
[Big Pun:]
Spike Lee couldn't paint a better picture,
You small change, I'm blowin' out your brains gettin' richer.
[Fat Joe:]
Hit ya with the Mac, smack your bitch, nigga, what?
You gettin' stuck, my trigger finger's itchy as a fuck!
[Big Pun:]
Truck jewels, cruisin' in the Land, pumpin' ‘Cash Rules',
Last crew to want it caught a hundred tryna pass through.
[Fat Joe:]
That's true, so who the next to get it?
TS the best that did it.
[Big Pun:]
Get it off your chest, kid, admit it.
[Chorus: Big Pun & Fat Joe]
And it's
Here, and you don't stop!
Twenty shot Glock with the cop killer fill ‘em to the top.
Yeah, and you don't stop!
Joey Crack's the rock, and Big Pun keeps the guns cocked.
Yeah, and you don't stop!
We'll make it hot, nigga, what? Bring it, I blow your whole spot.
Yeah, and you don't stop!
It's still one-eight-seven on an undercover cop!
[Verse 2]
[Big Pun:]
Fuck the police, I squeeze first, make ‘em eat dirt,
Take ‘em feet first through the morgue, then launch ‘em in the T-bird,
The street's cursed, the First Amendment's culturally biased,
Supposed to supply us with rights, tonight I hold my rosary
Tight as I can, I'm one man against the world, just me and my girl,
Black Pearl Latina, mas fina, who keeps it real,
You know the deal, we steal from the rich and keep it,
Peep it, it's no secret, watch me and Joe go back and forth and freak it.
[Fat Joe:]
Creep with me, as I cruise in my Beamer,
All the kids in the ghetto call me Don Cartagena,
Kickin' ass as I blast off heat, and
You never see me talk to police, so
You should know that I really don't care,
Pull you by the hair, slit your throat, and I'll leave you right there.
So beware, it's rare that niggas want beef, Big Pun, speak
And let these mothafuckas know how we run the streets.
[Big Pun:]
Fuck peace, I run the streets deep with no compassion,
Puerto Ricans known for slashin', catchin' niggas while they sleepin', no relaxing,
Keep your eyes open, sharp reflexes,
Three TEC'ses in the Jeep, Lexus just in case police test us.
Street professors, Terror Squad, ghetto scholars,
Full-A-Clips mob, inflicts the fear of God when the metal hollas,
Better acknowledge or get knocked down until I'm locked and shot down,
Heather B couldn't make me put my Glock down.
[Fat Joe:]
We lock towns like rounds in the chamber,
Boogie Down major like Nine, I bust mine
Every time, plus I'm the crime boss of New York,
When we talk to walk the walk all my niggas carry chalk,
And stalk, I prey like the predator, whoever want it
Go and get it, set it, baby, and I'ma bury ya.
So remember the Squad that I'm reppin',
I pull a clip for my weapon and punish niggas till it's Armageddon!
[Chorus – x2]
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As You Already Know
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I'm Not a Player
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Play No Games
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Deep Cover
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King Of N.Y.
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New York
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I Want You
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J.O.S.E.
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Intro
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Definition Of A Don
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Family Tree
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Lean Back
Terror Squad
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Still Not a Player
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