Prove Something - FAT JOE



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

Daughter slaughtered and maimed you should have paid the ransom



[chorus x2]

Its the T E R R O R squad, nigga get it right

Its the nigga joe the don

And the kid flow hard, ask the clique

Niggas be like you crazy, he got classic shit



[Verse 2]

Its the killa kid from the bronx

Holdin down to the death

You can hear the squad comin

By the sound of the techs

A hundred rounds in a sec

Leave you on front page

You would think I was down with the ROC

The way I just blazed

I puff haze to keep my mind at ease

Can't wait for the day to see shyne released

This hip hop shit is unjust, who you gon' trust

When most of these record label execs



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