Fat Joe - Success (DJ Premier Remix) lyrics

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Fat Joe - Success (DJ Premier Remix) lyrics

Yeah This joint right here is goin out to everybody gettin money I mean the real CREAM All up and down the East and West coast Check it [echoes] [Chorus: repeat 2X] Hustlin is the key to success Money is the key to s** The life is gettin cash, drinkin Mo', gettin blessed The games people play The names people slay It's just another ordinary day [Verse One] One's for the cash, two's for every blunt's ash Three's for all the 40 brews goin to cruise the bowel Four's for the d**, s**, and power I be the top dolla scala, rockin gold collars While you tryin to sip the juice, I'm takin swallows Step into my zone and get blown, my ways are internationally known Yeah, in case you haven't heard the rep Have an appetite for beef and get, hand fed led Rapid-fire echoes through your, vicinity Why you messin with this n***a from Trinity? For every shell that fell, there's a story to tell But it's a fine line between grapevines and pines Knahmean? There's no room for snitches and loud b**hes But it's always room for riches and deep ditches That's how it be in this everlasting game Declaring war on co*ks, and leavin chumps slain So maintain, and put the frontin to a rest Or today'll be the grand openin of your chest Success, triple beam, knahmean? Dolla dolla bill [Chorus] [Verse Two] The streets are full of vengeance, and it's expensive If you don't organize your words right in your sentence Twelve gauge holes take souls and lives are lost Who said an arm and a leg was a high cost to toss? Things are done different, in my zip code Hollow tips implode, dum-dums explode Now your crew is screamin like they see demons when I reload You can't comprehend, act like you want it for clarity I'm pushin wigs, handin out jigs like charity You best to get your groove on, or get moved on Or play the hot steppa, and die with your shoes on I collects a** and cash While my crew consumes liquor and hash, and keep the stash Whether, hustlin or dustin we get busy with ours T.S., T.A.T., respect for miles The Bronx is the turf, South is the area Bring ten, bring twenty, the more guns the merrier Nobody's bad as me, no cops nabbin me Front if you dare and I'll change your whole anatomy For real... uh! [Chorus - repeat to fade]