Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fight Club, artist - Fat Joe. Date of issue: 26.11.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Fight Club |
| 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! |
| We gonna |
| BREAK! |
| — (BREAK!) |
| MASH! |
| — (MASH!) |
| BRAWL! |
| — (BRAWL! |
| CLASH! |
| — (CLASH!) |
| Fight up in them clubs, got no love for yo' ass! |
| GET YO' ASS UP NIGGA! |
| SHOW ME WHERE YOU AT! |
| GET YO' ASS UP NIGGA! |
| OPEN UP HIS BACK! |
| Yo who that husky-ass nigga with the flow so dumb |
| Comin up outta Brooklyn lookin like Mighty Joe Young |
| (FACE DOWN!) Know we real — got this motherfucker |
| Crackin and buzzin with my Latin cousin Joey Grills |
| (WE INTERNATIONAL!) 151 proof |
| Letcha cold run loose, I give 'em a sunroof |
| For cotton-ass pretty boy talkin bout drama |
| With that nasty-ass Coogi suit, lookin like pajamas |
| (SOMEBODY GON' GET HURT TODAY!) So be it |
| We the First (First!) Fam (Family!) — You see it! |
| Put some trouble in ya voice homeboy, fore ya get whacked in |
| CALM (CALM!) DOWN (DOWN!) GET — BACK! |
| For you niggas that wanna trap me |
| I make families unhappy |
| I’m tied into the same shit as Boy George and Papi |
| (E'RYBODY KNOW!) Everybody wanna clap me |
| Tonight I’m with my Spanish homie Joey |
| So get at me with the ghetto issued .45, semi-automatic |
| I (SPIT) with intentions (TO RIP) |
| Put-put pieces out yo' cabbage bitch |
| Trained on the Hill, aim at niggas faces |
| Push his hat back seven paces — leave him standin still |
| Cobra-ass nigga (Huh?!) You beg me to kill (Yeah!) |
| When I cock Glocks and pop, you beg me to chill (Chill!) |
| (Y'ALL REMEMBER BILL!) Y’all remember the motherfuckin deal |
| You will get yo' ass zipped up, how this feel nigga?!! |
| Oh motherfucker uh-uh, y’all ain’t seen nuttin yet |
| Got a call from the Bronx Best, bitch and I was right there |
| Duck tape, grip ply, havogee, turpentine |
| Two nickel nine, MacDonald, cup of richie wine |
| Wish a motherfucker would, look and he shall find |
| TEN MILLION WAYS TO DIE! |
| I’m the thickest of the fire |
| Ain’t to many niggas round with the rumble |
| With the rawest in the jungle, blicky BLOAW BLOAW! |
| Bitch I break 'em down (DOWN) with Terror Squad now |
| Ya pretty bad, clumsy mouth, sit down — get up get out |
| Hottest thang they got in the south (Petey Pablo!) |
| If ya don’t know now ya know — HOLLA AT 'EM JOE! |
| Fight club! |
| — Fight club! |
| Fight club! |
| — Fight club! |
| Fight club! |
| — Fight club! |
| HOLLA AT 'EM JOE! |
| Yeah, huh, yeah, huh?! |
| (Hahaha) |
| First Family, Terror Squad… |