Text: Fat Joe. The Crack Attack.
Yea, uhh
"I bet you thought I left you hangin"
Yea yea, yeah
"I bet you thought I left you hangin"
Terror Squad again.. long overdue baby
"I-I-I bet you thought I left you hangin"
Don Cartagena, bring you the best in hardcore hip-hop
"J-J-Joe Crack returns bangin"
Yea, uhh
Yo it's the Don of rap, sippin Cognac, hit you on the back
with the Mac (CLAK CLAK) slip you into cardiac
It's the art of rap at the illest form
from a killer's point of view, who thrives off the area jealous ones
You could tell it's on from my introduction
Hibernate the junction with killin somethin when you was barely dumpin
You ain't even nuttin to worry about
I flurried your mouth, with about thirty right in front of your house
Then I'm hurryin out in the expedition, professional hit men
The vestibule shit from the credible disses
Federals is listenin to my conversations, tapin all the songs I'm makin
Shakin down every ounce of my congregation
John Blazin, raisin the stakes, changin your fate
Tied up in my basement with a gauge in your face
Make no mistake, that's how I do my thing
Blow out a lot of brains, I'm sayin, it's not a game
"Take these words home and think it through
Or the next rhyme I write might be about you" -- Mobb Deep
(repeat 4X)
Uhh, uhh, yea
Joe Crack takin a L and make Tone roll over in his grave, never that
T.S. got his dreams and discourage the brave, remember that
I been bustin guns since the infamous days of leather hats
Varsity sweaters with big letters black
Pushin the illest whips down fifty-fifth
where killers riff, without havin to split Phillies and sniff
And Willies who shift jobs from Chili willin to leave you stiff
Fulfillin my biggest wish, in this illegal shit
Quarter Maris stay slugger with karats, never offered marriage
When my corpse is carried my moms'll get all my cabbage
Terror Squad is savage, draped in the finest of fabrics
Floss like it's a habit, eight shot up in my Louis baggage
You knew we knew we had you, lay half your crew in gravel
Caught you slippin with your Boo and started shootin at you
Out of captivity, left Relativity
Now we on the Big-ger Beat, Terror Squad trilogy, what?
"Take these words home and think it through
Or the next rhyme I write might be about you" -- Mobb Deep
(repeat 8X)
"I bet you thought I left you hangin"
Yea yea, yeah
"I bet you thought I left you hangin"
Terror Squad again.. long overdue baby
"I-I-I bet you thought I left you hangin"
Don Cartagena, bring you the best in hardcore hip-hop
"J-J-Joe Crack returns bangin"
Yea, uhh
Yo it's the Don of rap, sippin Cognac, hit you on the back
with the Mac (CLAK CLAK) slip you into cardiac
It's the art of rap at the illest form
from a killer's point of view, who thrives off the area jealous ones
You could tell it's on from my introduction
Hibernate the junction with killin somethin when you was barely dumpin
You ain't even nuttin to worry about
I flurried your mouth, with about thirty right in front of your house
Then I'm hurryin out in the expedition, professional hit men
The vestibule shit from the credible disses
Federals is listenin to my conversations, tapin all the songs I'm makin
Shakin down every ounce of my congregation
John Blazin, raisin the stakes, changin your fate
Tied up in my basement with a gauge in your face
Make no mistake, that's how I do my thing
Blow out a lot of brains, I'm sayin, it's not a game
"Take these words home and think it through
Or the next rhyme I write might be about you" -- Mobb Deep
(repeat 4X)
Uhh, uhh, yea
Joe Crack takin a L and make Tone roll over in his grave, never that
T.S. got his dreams and discourage the brave, remember that
I been bustin guns since the infamous days of leather hats
Varsity sweaters with big letters black
Pushin the illest whips down fifty-fifth
where killers riff, without havin to split Phillies and sniff
And Willies who shift jobs from Chili willin to leave you stiff
Fulfillin my biggest wish, in this illegal shit
Quarter Maris stay slugger with karats, never offered marriage
When my corpse is carried my moms'll get all my cabbage
Terror Squad is savage, draped in the finest of fabrics
Floss like it's a habit, eight shot up in my Louis baggage
You knew we knew we had you, lay half your crew in gravel
Caught you slippin with your Boo and started shootin at you
Out of captivity, left Relativity
Now we on the Big-ger Beat, Terror Squad trilogy, what?
"Take these words home and think it through
Or the next rhyme I write might be about you" -- Mobb Deep
(repeat 8X)
Fat Joe