Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true
Shouts to the East and the West coast crew
(That's all I ask of you)
Shouts to the East and the West coast crew
Never leave for home without the motherfuckin' chrome
Sold out crowds, with curiosity
Mad lives have been lost and forgotten
Blowin' out the tweeters in your musical component
Shouts to the East and the West coast crew
Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true
Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true
Never lost a gram on any eighth that I cooked
That's the type of mission that I'm on
Microphone check, one two one two
And go play golf with Russell Simmons
Everybody wants to know, could the man still flip it?
Here comes the nigga from the East
Keepin' shit real, niggaz know the deal
Fat Joe, army fatigue and black chuckers
You, can't, deal with the man
(That's all I ask of you)
I know you love the way I grab the mic and spark it
Who's known throughout the industry for pullin' niggaz cards
Niggaz better watch they back, the Big Apple's gone rotten
Hardcore lyrics to all my real motherfuckers
Fuck around and get thrown off the project roof
Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true
Shouts to the East and the West coast crew
The Public Enemy, rapper at large
Aiyyo, my word is bond, I keep a army just as deep as Farra Khan
Niggaz be talkin' mad shit, but they don't want it
Microphone check, one two one two
It's your man Fat Joe, oh, is that so?
Microphone gifted, unrealistic
You hookers'll never get your hands inside my pockets
Peace to all the villains out of state makin' millions 'cause ah
It's the realer MC, the drug dealer MC
Flex got the most, Serge got the land spread
You know the situation, Zulu Nation
Motherfuckers know my rep, I never fronted
I'm tryin' to see cream, in the millions, retire
If a nigga fake jax, I'm gonna kill a MC
Shouts to the East and the West coast crew
Who be holdin' down the fort with the gauge in his hand
One time for your mind off the top of a dome
Yeah, you can't handle the truth
When I step in the jam all eyes are on me
Word to Tone, Big Daddy, I know he's chillin'
Who just been crowned for most hated by police
Comin' with the bomb bass for the underground heads
From the Bronx to Queensbridge, on back to Redhook
(That's all I ask of you)
(That's all I ask of you)
(That's all I ask of you)
You remember me from, "You know ya got to flow"
Microphone check, one two one two
Microphone check, one two one two
Niggaz be like he's fat, bitches be like he's all that
Microphone check, one two one two
Whatever you do, keep this hip-hop shit true
Never forget the Bronx because the Bronx the foundation
Fat Joe, a.k.a. Joey Crack
Microphone Joe I own it, bitches wanna bone it
Just through trial and comin' down on appeal
