Fat Joe - Think About It lyrics

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Fat Joe - Think About It lyrics

New York, yeah, we G'ed up Act up, clap the back of your knees up Packin' the Mack in the back of the Beamer Taxin' your cash and you ask me to ease up I want to rock, now comply or get shot down I know you gon' hire some cops now Coca, sun down to sun up Caly Cartel, used to be a runner D Boy, stamp bricks with smiley faces Show you how to turn that powder to a hundred acres Let's get it, thank God for makin' crack raw Now how you want it, the window or the chainsaw? Crack, yeah, I'm nice with the knife game Ice pick change your life with one strike, man Too much rappin' and we don't rat We do it for them trap stars servin' them packs And e'er n***a know from way back to Houston Joe's a go when push comes to shootin' The 44 will loose more then just a tooth, man A hundred shots will rip your top like where the roof went I think he said somethin', bring 'em back to me I let the chopper groove and let the Mack boogie You better think about it, boy, you better think about it You better think about it, boy, you better think about it I got no papers on all them guns So when I pull 'em out your a** best run, crack You better think about, boy, you better think about it You better think about, boy, you better think about it This ain't for the n***az hob-nobbin' in closets This is for them n***az that supplin' their projects The man catch beef, say my n***a, I got this Right in broad day, twist a n***a, then pop sh** I ain't playin', I got big guns My n***az barely speak English, they'll lift, son The strip is mine, naw, you ain't eatin' here I run this sh**, at least in some recent years And y'all know who rep the streets most Terror Squad, we put the E in East Coast So 'Be Easy' like T.I. said Or them things'll pop up like a Chia pet Or Chi Ali or any given clapper Exorcist style, get your heads spun backwards Them pistols'll go, your brain go splatter A minute ago you were sayin' you'd get at us Now why you had to go talk like that? Get ya body outlined with the chalk like that? I guess he must've thought I'd have f**ed them cats The oldest rule in the books, you should have brought them gats, now I think he said somethin', bring 'em back to me I let the chopper groove and let the Mack boogie You better think about it, boy, you better think about it You better think about it, boy, you better think about it I got no papers on all them guns So when I pull 'em out your a** best run, crack You better think about, boy, you better think about it You better think about, boy, you better think about it