Lirik Lagu Definition of A Don - Fat Joe
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(Feat. Remy Martin)
Yeah.. Definition of a DonIt's like I gotta keep remindin you and remindin youWho's that nigga.. You heard the kidFly was on the casket of all those who appose the squadusIt's the motherfuckin Don Cartagena ya heardWhat?!
[Chorus: Remy Martin]They wanna know why ya name is Joey CrackYou a hustler, how they think you got the stacks? (Uh)You stuck being in jacks on the blocks witcha paps (Yeah)And the Squad to hard niggaz gotta fall back (Tell 'em)Damn papi, you're shit is icey now (Uh-huh)In the Bronx witcha Benz rims pokin out (Ten mil)You got the niggaz in the pen straight loc'in outBut when the don is on nigga close ya mouth
[Fat Joe]Yeah, yoYou wouldn't understand my story of life I liveMost niggaz that really know me got life as bidsThe trife as kids, this ain't no Scarface shitThese niggaz really will kill you, your wife, and kidsI walked through many blocks niggaz couldn't stand onHad shit locked before I had a glock to even put my hands onBefore I had the dough to put my fams onBefore I had rocks sealed in pink tops, tryna get a gram offA wild adolescent, raised by the streetMesmorized by the dealers and the places they eatAnd when they blazed the heat, I was the shorty to take the handoffRun upstairs, tryna sneak the gat past grandmomsThis is how it should be done... my life...Is identical to none, son tryed to duplicate but I knew he was fakeCuz everytime I walked by he turned blue in the faceI'm like heavy on the leg when I popAll my change is like heavy on the weight when I copIt's just the way it's doneNiggaz tell me they respect the way I blaze them gunsOn hold it down for the Bronx in the name of Pun
[Chorus]
[Fat Joe]Yeah uh, my name ring bells like a P.O.Put the pressure on a nigga like I'm right atcha do'With the muzzle out, nigga can't shoke with my doughI'm at his mothers houseBeat up his pops, put the pistol in his brother's mouthWave bricks, whips... jerked a few coke and next play the stripwith chrome knowin that they won't forgetAnd on the weekends we shut down clubsYou know them crazy Peurto Ricans always fuckin it up!If I can't afford it, I'ma extort itIf I can't cut it, I'ma bake itStrip you niggaz butt-naked, I'm a thoroughbredCarry guns and pump heroinNever went O.T. I'm too light for MarylandI'd rather play the streets of New YorkWhere the fiends are guarunteed to keep the meat on my forkI'm just a hustler - feds put the tapon our phones in hopes of cuffin usThen wonder why we livin life so illustrious
[Chorus repeat 2x]
Yeah.. Definition of a DonIt's like I gotta keep remindin you and remindin youWho's that nigga.. You heard the kidFly was on the casket of all those who appose the squadusIt's the motherfuckin Don Cartagena ya heardWhat?!
[Chorus: Remy Martin]They wanna know why ya name is Joey CrackYou a hustler, how they think you got the stacks? (Uh)You stuck being in jacks on the blocks witcha paps (Yeah)And the Squad to hard niggaz gotta fall back (Tell 'em)Damn papi, you're shit is icey now (Uh-huh)In the Bronx witcha Benz rims pokin out (Ten mil)You got the niggaz in the pen straight loc'in outBut when the don is on nigga close ya mouth
[Fat Joe]Yeah, yoYou wouldn't understand my story of life I liveMost niggaz that really know me got life as bidsThe trife as kids, this ain't no Scarface shitThese niggaz really will kill you, your wife, and kidsI walked through many blocks niggaz couldn't stand onHad shit locked before I had a glock to even put my hands onBefore I had the dough to put my fams onBefore I had rocks sealed in pink tops, tryna get a gram offA wild adolescent, raised by the streetMesmorized by the dealers and the places they eatAnd when they blazed the heat, I was the shorty to take the handoffRun upstairs, tryna sneak the gat past grandmomsThis is how it should be done... my life...Is identical to none, son tryed to duplicate but I knew he was fakeCuz everytime I walked by he turned blue in the faceI'm like heavy on the leg when I popAll my change is like heavy on the weight when I copIt's just the way it's doneNiggaz tell me they respect the way I blaze them gunsOn hold it down for the Bronx in the name of Pun
[Chorus]
[Fat Joe]Yeah uh, my name ring bells like a P.O.Put the pressure on a nigga like I'm right atcha do'With the muzzle out, nigga can't shoke with my doughI'm at his mothers houseBeat up his pops, put the pistol in his brother's mouthWave bricks, whips... jerked a few coke and next play the stripwith chrome knowin that they won't forgetAnd on the weekends we shut down clubsYou know them crazy Peurto Ricans always fuckin it up!If I can't afford it, I'ma extort itIf I can't cut it, I'ma bake itStrip you niggaz butt-naked, I'm a thoroughbredCarry guns and pump heroinNever went O.T. I'm too light for MarylandI'd rather play the streets of New YorkWhere the fiends are guarunteed to keep the meat on my forkI'm just a hustler - feds put the tapon our phones in hopes of cuffin usThen wonder why we livin life so illustrious
[Chorus repeat 2x]
