All Around The World Lyrics - Singles - Terror Squad

[ intro: fat joe ] 

Yeah yeah 

Terror squad what-what 

Cuban link what-what 

'99, baby 

[ verse 1: cuban link ] 

Yo ladi-dadi, mami, I love to party 

Plus I always cause trouble when I guzzle bacardi 

Got the hotties sippin rum, maseratis with the stumps 

Music bumpin out the trunk. everybody's gettin drunk 

From the bronx, settin, lettin it all out 

No doubt, toast your coast 

Reppin the east, west, north, south 

Now it's all about the terror squad, ghetto superstars 

Extra-large players like kareem abdul jabbar 

Word to god, pun, my crew won't give a fuck who you are 

We do our job like we part of the mob, shoot up the bar 

Cuban the don daddy like john gotti 

I brung a long shotie for the chump bodies 

If it's on it's on, mami 

[ chorus ] 

It's mister cuban link, baby, comin through with the hits 

Gettin love from the ladies while my crew in the triz 

And this goes out to the players, thugs, hustlers and pimps 

(we run shit) 

All around the world 

You know I do my thing, baby, cuban link full eclipse 

Terror squad, new era, god, better choose who you with 

When we flip ain't no tellin what we do to your click 

(we run shit) 

All around the world 

[ verse 2: cuban link ] 

Villainous terror squadian, bacardi dark got me crashin the party 

Undressin hotties to take it all from the drawers to they barbie bits 

Pokin up in your ? vaginal? flow in carhartts and timbos 

Thuggin it with a limp, cause cuban link is known to pimp hoes 

Gettin bimbos from all angles, mandingo straight out the combo 

From a bedroom I needed gettin head in a durango 

Grab your ankles, do the hula-hoop your culo while I do ya 

Nothin's cooler than fuckin while you're puffin a bag of buddah 

Don the cuba's got your cura, schoolin juniors like butuvas 

Smooth as luther when it comes to suckin hooters like a hoover 

Who the man now? impressed so many mamis, I can't count 

Holdin my count down till the last round, hands down 

No question I blow your chest in with a smith & wesson 

You'll be dead in less than a second - reckon 

Better listen, my weapon, step in my sessions for lessons 

Lasting impression, destined to be the best in this profession 

[ chorus ] 

[ verse 3: cuban link ] 

I'm runnin ralleys from new york to cali up in a caddy 

Puffin like daddy with paddy, baggin the weed up in the backseat 

Crackin forties, actin naughty, tellin em shorties, havin orgees 

Watchin pokeys with four freaks - now that's me 

I be the nasty cuban, slammin like I'm patrick ewing 

Pass me a bag of weed, a brew, and the track that we're doing 

For you and yours, full of glitter style 

Showin all my skills like a stripper, baby, hit me with some shit for now 

Break it down, hit the ground, move your hips around 

Make it bounce, shoop and sit down on my dick and do the brown 

If you down we can bounce right now, pick up a pound 

Enjoy and lounge with style, y'all know my name by now 

[ chorus ] 

[ outro: fat joe ] 

No doubt 

Cuban link, baby 

'99 

Terror squad 

All you fake-ass niggas 

Tryin to be like us, talk like us 

But you could never walk like us 

Fuck around and get outlined in chalk 

Terror squad 

Joe crack 

Big pun 

Prospecto 

Armageaddyo 

Triple seis, what? 

Raoul