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Текст песни Fat Joe - Success

Fat Joe - Success слова песни



Текст песни Fat Joe - Success




Artist: Fat JoeAlbum: Jealous One's Envy/Hard White, The End Of A DroughtSong: SuccessIntro: Fat JoeYeahThis joint right here is going out to everybody getting moneyI mean the real cream( )All up and down the east and west coastCheck it *echoes*Chorus: Fat Joe repeat 2xHustling is the key to successMoney is the key to sexThe life is getting cash, drinking mo’, getting blessedThe games people playThe names people slayIt’s just another ordinary dayFat Joe:One’s for the cash, two’s for every blunt is ashThree’s for all the 40 brews going to cruise the bowelFour’s for the drugs, sex, and powerI be the top dolla scala, rocking gold collarsWhile you trying to sip the juice, I’m taking swallowsStep into my zone and get blown, ? internationally knownYeah, in case you haven’t heard the repHave an appetite for beef and get, hand fed ledRapid-fire echoes through your, vicinityWhy you messing with this nigga from trinity? For every shell that fell, there’s a story to tellBut it’s a fine line between grapevines and pinesKnahmean? there’s no room for snitches and loud bitchesBut it’s always room for riches and deep ditchesThat’s how it be in this everlasting gameDeclaring war on cocks, and leaving chumps slainSo maintain, and put the fronting to a restOr today will be the grand opening of your chestSuccess, triple beam, knahmean? Dolla dolla billChorus: Fat JoeFat Joe:The streets are full of vengeance, and it’s expensiveIf you don’t organize your words right in your sentenceTwelve gauge holes take souls and lives are lostWho said an arm and a leg was a high cost to toss? Things are done different, in my zip codeHollow tips implode, dum-dums explodeNow your crew is screaming like they see demons when I reloadYou can’t comprehend, act like you want it for clarityI’m pushing wigs, handing out jigs like charityYou best to get your groove on, or get moved onOr play the hot steppa, and die with your shoes onI collects ass and cashWhile my crew consumes liquor and hash, and keep the stashWhether, hustling or dusting we get busy with oursT.S., t.a.t., respect for milesThe Bronx is the turf, south is the areaBring ten, bring twenty, the more guns the merrierNobody’s bad as me, no cops nabbing meFront if you dare and I’ll change your whole anatomyFor real... uh!Chorus: Fat Joe (repeat to fade)




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