We take a puff of dro and be like (oo-oo-oooh)

[Noreaga]
Ay, yo, twin ho days and we makin' it hot (say what?)
Numero uno on your billboard spot (what, nigga?)
Since the days of flow Joe, we be makin' it hot
Before Superthug, niggas sold crack on the block

We take a puff of dro and be like (oo-oo-oooh)

[Noreaga]
Ay, yo, twin ho days and we makin' it hot (say what?)
Numero uno on your billboard spot (what, nigga?)
Since the days of flow Joe, we be makin' it hot
Before Superthug, niggas sold crack on the block

Me and my Joe, Hennessey doubles and lattes (hey!)

[R. Kelly]
Yeah, we thuggin', rollin' on dubs, and
Off up in the club, wildin' like what
Got Cris' on pop, Henny wit no chaser, and mami don't stop
Throw it up, six o'clock, 'cause I got four hon-eys in the drop
And my man Joe's got the keys to the spot
And it's full of honeys, panties with no tops

We take a puff of dro and be like (oo-oo-oooh)

[Busta Rhymes]
In 2001, we move fast
I had to fuck a couple fat bitches all in they ass
Yes, I get busy and know and I do all I can (can)
Had to meet up with them Terror Squad niggas, my man (man)
Yeah, I see a couple of niggas that look real bugged
In the corner frontin' like a bunch of real, live thugs
Frontin', stackin' my ones and I'm countin' these figgas
Got a cooler bitch that's mo' thug than some of these niggas
Fuckin' me now, suckin' my ass late
Straight drinkin' the Henny, sippin' with no chaser
When my bitches be thuggin' niggas that catch vapors
Lovin' how my bitches be givin' me paper
One by one, watchin' y'all niggas drop off
You wack niggas will feel when you hear my gun pop off
Get my rocks off, that's when I'm quick to knock your block off

And hold a gat when I'm fuckin' and never take my socks off

[R. Kelly]
Yeah, we thuggin', rollin' on dubs, and
Off up in the club, wildin' like what
Got Cris' on pop, Henny wit no chaser, and mami don't stop
Throw it up, six o'clock, 'cause I got four hon-eys in the drop
And my man Joe's got the keys to the spot
And it's full of honeys, panties with no tops
We take a puff of dro and be like (oo-oo-oooh)

"Take A Look At My Life"

[Intro: Fat Joe]
Whooo.. friendly day in the neighborhood
Birds is chirpin (Hi neighbor!)
Niggas walkin they dogs, ha ha, watering they flowers
That's my neighborhood.. FUCK NO!
I'm from the streets of the BX Boro where niggas push packs
This is that surge shit, that full flex shit, All Groh shit
Raul ya heard me?
Macho, Jigga Brown JD, Charlie Rock LD, Remy Ma, unh

Sound boy turn this shit up right here

[Fat Joe]
I'm your idol, your higest title, numero uno
Yes I'm Puerto Rican and I speak it so that you know
Stomp.. yeah that's the idea
Leave that nigga leakin from ear ta ear
Listen here young bruh, man ya end is near
They probaly, find your body at the end of the pier
Niggas must be crazy to mistakin me for folk lore
I put the eighty to your baby man I told y'all
Fuckin wit crack's like fuckin wit Crack
What? Pull out the pipe or push your weight back
Look, ya hate that, look we stay straped
From Crook from way back done took the game back
Ya shook, remain fact top of the world, stop knockin the girl
She in the drop with already rock lock and the pearl
Fish Scale ta Heron, live well from here on
Half a mil in ya grill, of course we bare all
Niggas thinkin that rap is just words
I pull up in they curb, pull a Desert Bird
and clear the block in no time

Get off my dick, stop focus shit and get cha own shine, muhh'fucka

[Chorus: Fat Joe]
Take a look at my life, and you can see that
I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap
Y'all need a nigga like me to point cha fingers at
So stop hating on The Don, you know ya need Crack
Take a look at my life, and you can see that
I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap
Y'all need a nigga like me to point cha fingers at

"Prove Something"

East New York!! oh god!!
Yeah, got that gangsta gangsta gully gully
Yeah, big business, Joe Crack the don
Terror Squad baby, BX boro, holdin down to the death

It's nothin realer than this you heard, uh what huh

[Verse 1]
Its like I'm always out to prove somethin
Everytime I stop on the block
I set up shop and try to move somethin
And I'm talkin about kilo's and pounds
Fuck a desert eagle
I got shit that spit over 300 rounds
Can tell by the scar on my neck
I spar with the best
Joey boombay-ay, hit hard with the left
Sharp with the right, I dont know why I bother
Y'all not retarded
Man ya know what the squadron is like
And he can get it too
But I let him die slow death I probably just collectin his food
I'm deadin ya crew
To tell ya the truth we not stoppin
I'm like lil' lease from b-street man I keep poppin
The streets knockin my shit, the d's watchin my shift
We can do this however, east glock or the fifth
I leave you chumps to frame, right where you standin