Fight Club Lyrics - Fat Joe

Ch, ch, ch, ch, yeah 

Terror Squad, First Family 

Ahh! 

(Yeah!) 

You see them diamonds glisterin' off that three quarterla 

That them there polyester 

(Uh, nigga) 

Ya heard me? 

(What the fuck, what the fuck, huh?) 

(Terror Squad, First Family) 

Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! 

Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! 

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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 contract 

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 car seat 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 

Photos 

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 tryin' a find these cats that did me dirty 

Shot me on the Ave, now I gotta blast until them pearlies 

We the realest niggaz ever touch the mic 

(Blah) 

And we love to fight 

(Blah) 

You heard my niggaz give up the fuckin' knife! 

(Ante up) 

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 

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 pyjamas 

(Somebody gon' get hurt today) 

So be it 

We the first fam, you see it 

(First family) 

Put some trouble in ya voice homeboy 'fore ya get whacked in 

Calm down, Get back! 

(Calm down) 

For you niggaz 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 niggaz faces 

Push his hat back seven paces, leave him standin' still 

Cobra ass nigga you beg me to kill 

(Huh, 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? 

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 

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 

Oh motherfucker uh uh, y'all ain't seen nothin' 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 too many niggaz round with the rumble 

With the rawest in the jungle, blicky, bloaw, bloaw! 

Bitch I break 'em down with Terror Squad now 

(Down) 

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! 

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 

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 

Yeah, huh, yeah, huh? 

First Family, Terror Squad