[Fat Joe] I don't give a fuck about you duke The truth is you be talkin shit with no proof Still pussy after all that loot Smack you right in front of your troops You know how we do, pakinamac in the back of the coup You loose, that's why you gon get it Me and my squad is known to set it Front guard and get ahead of this It's pathematic how you run the streets I bring guns to beef, while you send your son to speech We a hundred deep and stay bustin the heat Puttin niggas to sleep, in six feet sweaps Joe the Don, ready for war when it's on Come on, tell me who can hold it down this long I'm strong that my name will live on when I'm gone Word bond, I conquer shit like Genghis Khan You been warned by the Terror Squadrans, ghetto sergeant Next time I see that ass in carter the'll be no pardon
[Chorus x2: Armageddon] Terror Squad pop, ain't nothin thicker than blood I sware to God all my thugs die quicker than love But life flex again, I'll be back livin it up And If drop, you don't stop, keep lickin ya slugs
[Prospect] Aiyo, it started off since 1979 A young nigga that was born and destined to shine I've been thru ups and downs, cash tellin cracks Bustin rounds, I saw buyers get hit up in crossfires Bosses retire, expired by hitmans for hire Wines strictly for bitches, suckin dicks to get higher In this world the more that you lust Fake ones that do fake shit, only a dummy you trust How can I have love walkin on this earth with dust Hence the birth it was bug, I fiend search for the drugs And being punched supply the guns, when we curse you with slugs But fuck it, everything ain't goin to work for you cuz I got to make these pesos in case lobes, niggas ya make fold Like envelopes and take notes Had an ash runnin the dash like JJ Stokes When the gun smoke, I quote another Murder He Wrote It's thug emotions that I'm lettin off my chest Turn of the leader, tress and jess be the best like T.S. I'm in for life, ready to fight, my twins is hype Better get it right, or get dented on sight
[Chorus x2]
[Armageddon] I'm just tryin to figure what right, kinda hard to pull a trigger polite Scriptures of right can't discribe how I'm sick in this life Pick up a mic and end it all in a session Blow my brains out, and let the kid sour the rezin I told ya niggas my brain was way above ya heads Niggas be slumpin dead, so snappin they spines Tryin to see what I fed, peep what I read in the eyes of my rival It might surprise, but jealously sometimes is the only way for survival Don't get me wrong, I'm still a piece of shit Street fires increased a bit, I might body a nigga for at least a nick Quipin the forty power, 24 hours of Armageddon The fly terrorist, chapter of sporty cowards Holy sours, clense my sins thru repentence A center of attention when the name of my enemy is mentioned A nigga inchin, must be but stinkin how my squad run Cuz I ain't dyin till my fam straight, sware on my godson
[Chorus x2]
Compositores: Dominick J Lamb, Edwin Zacarias Perez, Eaddy John e Iii, Joseph Antonio Cartagena (Fat Joe) ECAD: Obra #15244493