The dull thud of packing meat. It's my bare fist beating meat. I'm a meat eater and meat is me. I'm a meat eater bearing recoiled red teeth. With veneer
bitch is in the kitchen With a pot of hot grease And a couple side dishes Go figure no meat Slice this nigga up so we can eat Kill the reeses on the raps Trouble makers
it rises slowly as you walk Away from all the fears and all the faults You've left behind The harvest left no food for you to eat You cannibal, you meat
da top These hoes so excited so dey catchin' every drop I'm dodgin' the barcols like pot holes in Jamaica We cut down the weed, bury the paper on the makers
everybody knows that I'm butter I'm not the man with sensitivity The name is Fat Joe, the label's Relativity, uh I chop a rapper like a meat cleaver
's just us payers, come on Just like you figured, I'm with my niggas And we all wit it, get ignit To all the booty shakers, to all the money makers Fuck
that damn shit he talk about Fools think they know me think they got me figured out But nigga, nigga? I plays this shit for bread and meat So nigga if
They did not even see me One holds the wheel As they did their angel stuff Not hand to picture One ties the cotton To the tire maker's heel What I'm
I'm dead meat, you took away my rights To be a part of your society A life time in prison wouldn't justify You wanna blow away a sucker so I have to die
fly by nighter There to take the money and run They caught the fella cheatin So they set him up a meating With his maker in the promise land Nobody see
back by sharin wit the niggaz I rap with Elite crooks, even the police be shook My crib got dead cops attached to meat hooks Disectin 'em, I burn whatever
little animal, dark-eyed and small Caring for your fur with pointed paws This hawk of truth is swift and flies with a still cry A small sweet meat to
professional Poppin my pistol Make a pack of people paranoid like 20 pitbulls *gimmie an m* Master of all missions Maker of decisions Head on collisions Massacre the meat
P Powerful professional Poppin my pistol Make a pack of people paranoid like 20 pitbulls GIMMIE AN M Master of all missions Maker of decisions Head on collisions Massacre the meat
(Dedicated, dedicated, dedicated) This goes out to all my peoples in the city Making ends meat, getting by Thinking 'bout the hustle, everybody struggles
commences The battleground is twelve inches of wax paper Breakin' down your defenseless senseless nature Pain stings with Ma Baker Twin towerin' I skyscrape ya Freedom come meet your maker