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Harold Blake Walker

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Dat Gangsta Shit
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Ca sĩ: Fat Joe
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Yeah uhh dat gangsta ****
 
Uhh yeah dat gangsta ****
 
Uhh dat gangsta ****
 
What you love huh? Dat gangsta ****
 
What you want huh? Dat gangsta ****
 
Now what we live huh? Dat gangsta ****
 
Yeah uhh uhh
 
Recognize my presence this rap game specialized with legends
 
I drop **** *****z try to memorize in seconds
 
You criticize me still visualize the lessons
 
and when I wish to put aside the questions
 
before they find out, who's the realest
 
Who done spoke without one joke about the illest
 
**** that ever happened, in this rappin beyond rappin
 
Joe the God it ain't so hard to start clappin
 
but I lay low, create flows, for the pesos
 
Now we got extra hoes, wantin to chase shows
 
I take foes, and break em down to minerals
 
We went from street corner thugs to white collar criminals
 
Individuals, with no peace on the quest
 
The iced out, piece on my chest, from the East to the West
 
Never sleep in a sweat, keep the heat with the vest
 
Ready for the 'casian blazin gettin deep with the best
 
The police want to test my strategy, got half of the world
 
mad at me, but very few challenge me
 
Perhaps you will be the first to approach this, lyrical dope ****
 
Cartagena will bring the chrome like explosives
 
Now what you love huh? Dat gangsta ****
 
What you want huh? Dat gangsta ****
 
Now what we live huh? Dat gangsta ****
 
Dat gangsta ****, dat gangsta ****
 
Yeah, uhh, uhh
 
**** the whole world, all I need is my dough and my girl
 
And even she can get it, everybody go to hell
 
I don't need y'all, disrespect the Don and I'ma see y'all
 
Hit you with the tech and the armor, you see-saw
 
That's my steez, if I don't kill you I'ma clap you these
 
Ask your peeps if I ain't have the beast soundin Japanese
 
Coughin blood, that's what you get for talkin thug
 
Run up on your preacher with the sweeper feature coughin slugs
 
Once a thug always a thug, hallways and drug dealers
 
Fillers, killers, they want to chill all day with us
 
They love the Don, these words are more than just another song
 
If I said I slit your neck, your jugular's gone
 
Ain't nothin artificial, Joe the God, the Terror Squad official
 
Got a lot of pistols with missiles, prayer lies with you
 
The **** you say'll get you sprayed with the clapper
 
Just remember Joe the God is not your ordinary rapper
 
Now what we love huh? Dat gangsta ****
 
What you want huh? Dat gangsta ****
 
Now what we live huh? Dat gangsta ****
 
Dat gangsta ****, dat gangsta ****
 
Now what you love huh? Dat gangsta ****
 
What you want huh? Kick dat gangsta ****
 
What you live huh? Dat gangsta ****
 
Dat gangsta ****, dat gangsta ****
 
Yeah
 
Goin out to all the real *****z
 
All the *****z that support real hip-hop
 
All my *****z on the corners
 
DJ's, no matter where the **** you from
 
it's where's your gat, hahaha
 
Primo whattup *****? Yeah
 
Don Cartagena
 
Terror Squadian, rock the party and, what?
 
Beotch!!