[Fat Joe]
  Uh-oh, uh-oh..
  Let's get it over with.
  Yo sound boy turn the levels up
  Let's get it over with, UH!
  Terror Squad up in this motherfucker
  Where my real niggaz at?
  My Bronx niggaz, my (?) niggaz
  I see you Lil' Hat! Uh, Ahaha!
  It's time to take it to these niggaz right here
  Yeah.. yo.. yo..
    Who wanna spaz out? Crunchtime, blow ya abs out
  Leave you in the fetal position, witcha ass out
  Ready to mash out any crew actin like
  they the true facts of life, frontin through the camera lights
  Despite, we hold it down regardless
  I got Def Jam suckin me like, "I wish you was my artist"
  For starters, who's the largest cat?
  Get a hundred grand from my most garbage rap
  Now how hard is that? Everything we spit be hot
  Whether it's live on Flex or in front of the chicken spot
  Grimed out, we really live whatchu rhyme 'bout
  See me posted up in the Tunnel, with my shines out
  Ice cold like Alaska when I pass ya
  Got girls shakin, losin they breath, as if they catchin asthma
  Headed to the bar to pop some bottles
  Now we in the car headed home to rock some models
  All I hear in the background is Gucci and Prada
  But I'm tryna gas these bitches to screw me for nada
  We the best that done it, confess you fronted
  Anybody wanna test how much straps, you want it?
    [Hook - Fat Joe]
  Aiyyo the gangsta's back
  Stop it right where you at
  Let a real nigga rock real murderer rap
  Tell them thug niggaz, listen to that
  Gotchu feelin it hard like Joe the God's really bringin it back!
    [Fat Joe]
  I'm from my days and legends, since age eleven
  I was the cause of dope fiends catchin AIDS infections
  Most of us are dead, but the rest is locked
  Runnin in the rec room and check me out on the box
  A CEO could get optioned tryna change the channel
  It's like tryna take the flesh outta the mouth of hungry cannibals
  Joe the God, the flow is hard
  Known for packin two dozen birds like Noah's Ark
  I'm the realest of 'em, make you feel the pressure
  Catch you at a club, smack you up, steal ya leather
  You niggaz soften me, beat you out of the mix
  Tough talk, tough walk, but you cry like a bitch
  I see you downin the Cris', I'm not hatin, I'm just aggrevated
  I ask myself every day, how these faggots made it?
  Fuck around with the Don and get decapitated
  I'm sick of hearin 'em (?) for all the cats that made it
    [Hook - Fat Joe]
    [Hook 2 - Armageddon]
  Aiyyo the kid is back
  Leave it right where you at
  Let a real nigga hold that, you probably won't clap
  Tell them thug niggaz, move it on back
  I'm feelin tight and I'm hot
  Ready to pop the crack right through your back
    [Armageddon]
  That's how Kenny rocks, I'm more advanced than how your learnin
  I'm like the force of space balance and planets while they churnin
  Poppin rosary beads, piss on ya candle while it's burnin
  Rush ya widows crib and pop ya... bodies...
  Now I know you can feel the heat I generate
  Imagine when I penetrate ya stomach, and make ya body's center bake
  We can argue for days, whether it's faster to drop five shots
  in ya astronaut before you cloud the stash box
  Splash ya brains on ya birds' laps
  Swerve you on the curb, crash the Range, and push the front skirt back
  And murk after that, blurtin curse words
  Yo I popped that nigga's son one before we catch the first
  I'ma kill any murderer, leave a nigga burpin up
  Blood, chokin on chunks of his lung interior
  Every verse that I spit's a personal riff
  I meet a ill key frontin, I'm a murder you shit
  Niggaz play me while distrubin the Bricks
  I'm like the feelin of the first time they ever held a bird in they grip
  Motivator thug, scrape 'em, shoot the bolts in his butt
  Energizin 'em up, make 'em wanna open 'em up
  Actin like I can't happen till I smack him in his Adam's apple
  Death to rappin, I don't wanna battle
  I'd rather rush your studio session and shatter the booth
  Clap at ya face, give the mic feedback the goof
    [Hook]
  [Hook 2]