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• Artiste: Fat Joe
• Titre: The Cypher
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Yeah, now take it out, I care your baby and your baby careless 'and that's a perfect marriage. Pray to God a nigga catch, still G in his ride And I'm with that, crackers ' in your crime! This is that cocaine rap, blood on the dope I see zombies in the trap, next to Phantoms and a Ghost Pussy on a pole, ' is an option When you grow up on the stove and your' is never home, uh We missed the heroin with the tranquilizer, nigga All is missing is the dealers emphazing, nigga! Junkies hobbling back like a class, yeah Throwing niggas off the boat like clients fell I'm on the top dead, go for ' across the trapez Spend the coin, chasing tails just to drop heads Hot tubs pulling back, fully know the chrome Rolling stones on the cover of the Rolling Stone Ha, ha, ha, hey you did that shit on' Young niggas Shades! Yeah, yeah, hit them niggas with that shit, man! Hey, hey, time to be on the track! Hey, hey! First of all I wanna thank my connector Putting me on game and always be on deck Young Cuban, so I had to get the link upon my neck That I leave no homie crack and make this money manifest I can ' with the intend to ' To come direct to my directions, hyper-shit when shit commit. My formulae is immaculate, net worth the sense Laying shit the'we're getting lifted by the' My niggas always packing pistols Wanted treat to be my guest Blow, and then we disappear with pure finesse. And bitches like Montana, trying to end up more like Sosa So I'm gambling with the coca till my cash will run it over Got so many stash cosmogy, more than a' The cliché to save, I only fuck how you feel And I'mma keep stacking the stacking, you made this paper for real '. And try to come up for real. Chill, chill, chill nigga! Man, they go forever, bro! Hey!