Fat Joe - The Profit Lyrics

Writer(s) : CARTER, DWAYNE / CARTAGENA, JOSEPH / KHALED, KHALED
Artist: Fat Joe Lyrics
Popularity : 44 users have visited this page.
Album: Track 3 on Me, Myself & I
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[Chorus]
We gettin' money man I'll show you how to turn profit
In the hood they call me Joey the profit
First you cop it
Then you cook it
Then you chop it
What the **** boy
***** *** *****s
They can't stop us
We turn a Profit
P, P, P, P, Profit the Profit
We make a P, P, P, P, Profit, Profit
Yeah in the hood they call me Joey the profit
If you listen close my *****s you bound to see a profit

I'm New York's living legend
The streets know me well
Stand in the line of fire
It's going to be hell
You dancin' wit the devil
Tonight's your last night
Picture me Lil's Eazy E
Pistol Fahrenheit
LA County got work in Slawson
We get it poppin'
Back to Roxbury in Boston
The streets love me
See they named me coca
The Puerto Rican version of La Costra Nostra
You can find me in the kitchen with me apron on
Something like the chef, yeah I get my Raekwon on
Joey the Mayor
I get Keys to the city
And I got 'em cheap the whole hood could come with me
*****

[Chorus]

I'm getting money
I'm the president Junior
And in the hood they call me Weezy the future
And everybody that's around me you'll shoot ya
And ***** my band let 'em blow like twofers yeah
Clap
I got em, I g, g, g, got 'em I got em, yep
Cook I got em, I g, g, g, got 'em I got em, yep
And in the hood they call me Weezy the future
If listen close my ***** you might see the future

Young Wayne in the building
Where your stove at
Cook 'em up Strap 'em down
Where the road at
I'm strapped up plenty bullets
***** hold that
Now you step in out in led shower where your robe at
I knock your earth off
Damn where ya globe at
**** the coach I keep shooting like Kobe
The money knows me better then anybody
***** I'm paid forget about it
I'm sitting in the coupe wit the ******* outted
The nipples chrome
Or that big black thing wit the slippers on that bullshit
Dippin' on them *****es
Get off ****
You soft pricks
I'm from New Orleans
Homeless but don't forget
The sun even shines on dark ****
And dawg I've been hustlin since the day I was barkin
I walk in this ***** like what it do
The money home
Stop hatin'
Get your money on
*****

[Chorus: x2]

This year all star weekend was off the chain
Literally *****s comin' off wit them chains
Put the Desi to his chest
Homey going die tonight
Then his jaw dropped like Napoleon dynamite
Jack boy I been since I'm a toddler
My Dad was sleeping I was running through his pockets
Oh yeah you ready for war then what's stopping you
I hope you know them Bentley doors not chopper proof
And they go Br are-RR Ta Tat
Just like them bullets dancin'
Come up short wit my doe I'm bout to pull a Manson
Take your kids for ransom
Yeah it's Payback *****
Next time I front you some birds you better pay Crack
What ****, I don't know nothing
He might be the police coming up with assumptions
All I know is this ***** hear is about to meet god
If you don't bring me some keys or bring me fifty large

[Chorus]


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