Fat Joe - One Shot (k**ed For Less) lyrics

[Intro: Fat Joe] + (Joell Ortiz) Cook! (Yeah!) Yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah, uhh It's that k**a crack street music (It's that Block Royal, Terror Squad music) Crack, cook (Joell Ortiz n***a) Listen (Knobody, WHAT UP!) [Hook: Joell Ortiz] + (Fat Joe) One shot, two shot, three shot, OHH! OHH! That'll send him right to the morgue Four shot, five shot, six shot, sh**, sh** That's for the wife and the kids (I don't care about your money or that sh** on your chest) n***as get k**ed for less! (And all that sh** you be talkin man we ain't impressed) n***as get k**ed for less! [Fat Joe] Whether, closed caption or high definition You could probably find me on that big screen, diamonds glistenin "Ain't this a b**h man? That's Joey from the Bronx And all the dirt he done, how the f** he mix the songs n***a?" He ain't lyin, I'm a chemist on that table My needle with the beige make the competition hate you Couple d**hs on the block, now they rate you Lil' Dex'll pull the trigger if I say shoot One shot, two shot, 'nother n***a down CSI searchin but his face can't be found n***a sh** is crazy on the streets of the Bronx n***as yellin "Shots fired" but police won't respond Where I'm from n***as pump that ba** And holler at your lil' sister right in front of your face n***a The working man's a s**er you heard, see n***a's gettin hot for twenty years, still thirsty I guess they share a bond with the 'caine Now that's what I call rekindlin old flames Get it? Who else but Coca in the Rover? Sports kitted, coulda been my 'ghini or my 'rossa Life is for the living, get a chauffeur Find yourself a b**h that don't mind eatin chocha We spit murder, you's a victim, boy If that a** get flashy we'll stick ya, boy! [Hook] [Joell Ortiz] Nah.. so don't die over nothin, let your lil' crew gas ya a** Cause on my block I was the Doc, before Aftermath I had that, rock in the spot the fiends had to blast When I, chopped it with pop and shoot past the gla** See I really hustle homie, this ain't no fabrication They never called me back, I filled out many applications Watchin these corny n***as come up, that was aggravatin So I hit the corner, told 'em beat it like they masturbatin 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 lil' s*uts at my prom salivatin Scooped my diploma, I'm gone but I kept on calculatin Colleges holla cause every grade I had's amazin It was school books or cool looks when I pa** with Daytons Clappin at plays or hearin my new Magnum flamin Schoolgirls or I'mma earl, look who this ba*tard's blazin Long story short, man I had these f*ggots hatin I'm handsome, I'm cool, I got guap, and I get it crack-a-latin I come from the place where you get your hood pa**es made in A brook where the only thing shook's on the stove marinatin So when they say congratulations over the respect my pad is gainin Know I ain't goin back, I'm aimin like [Hook] [Outro: Fat Joe] AOWWWW! That's what the f** I'm talkin about That real gangsta music, b*atch! Like that sh**, you like how that sh** sounds n***a BLAT!