Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Definition Of A Don, artist - Fat Joe. Date of issue: 26.11.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Definition Of A Don |
| Yeah. |
| Definition of a Don |
| It’s like I gotta keep remindin you and remindin you |
| Who’s that nigga. |
| You heard the kid |
| Flowers on the casket of all those who oppose the squadus |
| It’s the motherfuckin Don Cartagena ya heard |
| What?! |
| They wanna know why ya name is Joey Crack |
| You 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 niggas 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 niggas in the pen straight loc’in out |
| But when the don is on nigga close ya mouth |
| Yeah, yo |
| You wouldn’t understand my story of life I live |
| Most niggas that really know me got life as bids |
| The trife as kids, this ain’t no Scarface shit |
| These niggas really will kill you, your wife, and kids |
| I walked through many blocks niggas couldn’t stand on |
| Had shit locked before I had a Glock to even put my hands on |
| Before I had the dough to put my fams on |
| Before I had rocks sealed in pink tops, tryna get a gram off |
| A wild adolescent, raised by the street |
| Mesmorized by the dealers and the places they eat |
| And when they blazed the heat, I was the shorty to take the handoff |
| Run upstairs, tryna sneak the gat past grandmoms |
| This is how it should be done… my life… |
| Is identical to none, son tryed to duplicate but I knew he was fake |
| Cuz everytime I walked by he turned blue in the face |
| I’m like heavy on the leg when I pop |
| All my change is like heavy on the weight when I cop |
| It’s just the way it’s done |
| Niggas tell me they respect the way I blaze them guns |
| On hold it down for the Bronx in the name of Pun |
| 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 dough |
| I’m at his mothers house |
| Beat up his pops, put the pistol in his brother’s mouth |
| Wave bricks, whips… jerked a few coke and next play the strip |
| With chrome knowin that they won’t forget |
| And on the weekends we shut down clubs |
| You know them crazy Peurto Ricans always fuckin it up! |
| If I can’t afford it, I’mma extort it |
| If I can’t cut it, I’mma bake it |
| Strip you niggas butt-naked, I’m a thoroughbred |
| Carry guns and pump heroin |
| Never went O.T. |
| I’m too light for Maryland |
| I’d rather play the streets of New York |
| Where the fiends are guarunteed to keep the meat on my fork |
| I’m just a hustler — feds put the tap |
| On our phones in hopes of cuffin us |
| Then wonder why we livin life so illustrious |
| repeat 2x |