One Shot (Killed for Less) [feat. Fat Joe]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, uh

It's that killer crack street music

It's that block world, Terror Squad music

Listen, Nobody, what up?

One shot, two shot, three shot, oh

That'll send him right to the morgue

Four shot, five shot, six shot, shii

That's for the wife and the kids

I don't care about your money or that shit on your chest

**** get killed for less

And all that shit you be talking, man, we ain't impressed

**** get killed for less

Whether closed caption or high definition

You can probably find me on that big screen, diamonds glistening

Ain't this a bitch, man, that's Joey from the Bronx

And all the dirt he done, how the fuck he make his songs, ****

He ain't lying, I'm a chemist on that table

Bonita with the beige make the competition hate you

Couple deaths on the block, now they rate you

Little deaths will pull the trigger if I say shoot

One shot, two shot, another **** down

CSI searching but his face can't be found, ****

Shit is crazy on the streets of the Bronx

**** yelling shots fired but police won't respond

Where I'm from **** pump that bass

And holla at your little sister right in front of your face, ****

The working man's a sucker you heard, see

**** getting high for twenty years, still thirsty

I guess he share bond with the 'caine

Now that's what I call rekindling old flames, get it

Who else but Coca in the Rover, sports fitted

Could've been my 'ghini or my roadster

Life is for the living, get a chauffeur

Find yourself a bitch that don't mind eating chocha

We spit murder, you's a victim, boy

If that ass get flashy, we'll stick you, boy

One shot, two shot, three shot, oh

That'll send him right to the morgue

Four shot, five shot, six shot, shii

That's for the wife and the kids

I don't care about your money or that shit on your chest

**** get killed for less

And all that shit you be talking, man, we ain't impressed

**** get killed for less

So don't die over nothing, let your little crew dash your ass

'Cause on my block I was the doc before Aftermath

I had that rock in the spot, the fiends had to blast

When I chop it with pop and shoot past the glass

See I really hustle, homie, this ain't no fabrication

They never called me back, I filled out many applications

Watching these corny **** come up, that was aggravating

So I hit the corner, told them beat it like they masturbating

I tried to have the patience, I asked God for the answers

He took too long to respond so I had a chat with Satan

He told me my dreams ain't have to stay imagination

Turned my wrecked Timbs to a stretch Benz for my graduation

Had all the little sluts at my prom salivating

Scooped my diploma, I'm gone, but I kept on calculating

College is holic 'cause every grade I had's amazing

It was school books or cool looks when I passed with Daytons

Clapping at plays or hearing my new Magnum flaming

School girls or I'ma earl, look who this bastard's blazing

Long story short, man, I had these faggots hating

I'm handsome, I'm cool, I got guap and I get crackolating

I come from the place where you get your hood passes made in

The brook where the only thing shook's on a stove marinating

So when they say congratulations over the respect

My pad is gaining, know I ain't going back, I'm aiming like

One shot, two shot, three shot, oh

That'll send him right to the morgue

Four shot, five shot, six shot, shii

That's for the wife and the kids

I don't care about your money or that shit on your chest

**** get killed for less

And all that shit you be talking, man, we ain't impressed

**** get killed for less

That's what the fuck I'm talking about

That real gangsta music, bitch

Like that shit, you like how that shit sound ****