Get the Hell On With That Fat Joe (Ft. Armageddon & Ludacris)

[Fat Joe]
Whoa, whoa, whoa
All you frontin-ass niggas
Callin all frontin-ass bitches, hahahaha!
Yo, get the hell on with that (say what, say what what?)
Get the hell on with that (say what, say what what?)
Yo, yo, yo, yo

Why you over there lookin at me, while my girl standin there?
These bitches actin like they never seen a millionaire
Feel my pockets, wanna really get your hands in there
Now what it be like?
You confused man, that shit don't even seem right
How you cats on your album only three mics?
Like 'Pac shit is funny to me
All you niggas livin bummy wasn't fuckin with me
Now nigga get it on, soon you be dead and gone
Shorty got a bubble all she need the silicone
Love my A-T-L bitches, pay my bail bitches
Type to let you fuck but never tell bitches
Down-ass hoes that'll grind that dough
Catch me with another chick and beat 'em down to a pulp
It's the F-A-T, to the, J-O-E
Drink Cris' with the Feds when they come for me
No cuffs, no guns, they respect a G
Number one with a slug, what you expect from me, huh?
Are you serious?