Fight Club Fat Joe (Ft. M.O.P. & Petey Pablo)

Ch-ch-ch-ch... Yeah
(Terror Squad.. First Family..)
AHHHHHHHHHHH!!! (Yeah, hahahah!)
You see them diamonds gliserin off that three-quarterla (Hahaha)
Dat dem dere polyesther (Uh, nigga!)
Hahaha, ya heard me? (What the fuck, what the fuck, huh?!)
(Terror Squad... First Family...)
OH!, OH! (OH!) OH! (OH!) OH! (OH!)
OH! (OH!) OH! (OH!)

[Fat Joe]
Yeah, yeah uh
Yo it's that motherfuckin Bronx nigga Don shit
Run up in yo' mom's crib
Ship-stacked biddomb shit - gun up in the palm shit
Nobody moves, nobody get whacked with the contrict
Yo' shot at they concert, it's locked on the concrete
I'm Stone Cold, I mean I slap... then stomp...
Then what's to stop my .40 Glock from rumblin your calm streets?
I'm troubled when I on deep, loco enough for dolo
Blow holes in ya carseat and roll over ya Rover
Fuck this role model shit I'm finna blow out ya wig
Bitch! Throw bottles to kid and get 'em thrown at ya crib
It's the return of the worst shit that ever happened
Reborn like what's crackin, we formed with raw plastic
Blastin off ya doors with an awful passion
Forcin the walls to crash in
You see them kids, I'll make 'em all bastards
Joey Crack - keep it gully
Known to clap - keep a fully
Automatic mack whodie on my lap - doin thirty
Drivin through the Heights tryna find these cats that did me dirty
Shot me on the Ave., now I gotta blast until them pearlies
We the realest niggas ever touch the mic (BLAH!)
And we love to fight (BLAH!)
You heard my niggas (ANTE UP!) give up the fuckin knife!